Have Blood, Will Travel!
by kjewls
Summary: Damon and Elena vow to rescue Stefan from Klaus. Their journey leads them to Bon Temps, where all isn't what it seems. Can they find Stefan before his soul is lost entirely? Can they keep their hands off eachother long enough to do that? TVD/TB cross
1. Chapter 1  Back to Me

**Author's Note: Just in case you were curious, the Chapter Titles in this story, are all based on songs featured in The Vampire Diaries' soundtrack. The title of this first chapter comes from the song "Back to Me" by the All-American Rejects. I feel as though the song's lyrics genuinely speak to Elena's state of mind, at this point in the story, which takes place the morning after the events of "As I Lay Dying."**

_9:27 a.m._

At some point, she must have fallen asleep, having passed out from sheer exhaustion and frustration, right in the center of Stefan's bed. Elena Gilbert awoke with her face buried deep in her boyfriend's pillow, which, much to her chagrin, still smelled like him. The slim brunette teen slowly maneuvered herself into sitting position to survey her surroundings. Aside from a slight rumpling of the white bed sheets, the room barely looked slept in.

Stifling a yawn, Elena turned her attention to the window. The warm sunlight filtering in through the glass deeply contrasted with her dark mood. Here she was, waking up in a luxurious room, inside an opulent mansion that _she_ nowtechnically owned. And yet, she never felt more alone.

As if by instinct, Elena padded barefoot down the hall toward Damon's bedroom. It wasn't until she had covered about half the distance between the two brother's rooms that she stopped to question her judgment. Elena looked down at her choice of sleeping attire. She was wearing a rather fitted purple cotton tank top, and a pair of purple and green flannel shorts that, while comfortable, were almost excessively short, leaving most of her olive-skinned legs exposed to the elements.

Simple, yet sexy . . . the outfit had always been a favorite of Stefan's, which was why she left it at his house for safekeeping, shortly after the first time she had been kidnapped by Elijah's minions. She wanted to show Stefan that no matter what happened, a part of her would always be there with him. Of course, there was another reason why those pajamas, in particular, were significant to Elena. However, try as she might, Elena couldn't remember it. But now Stefan was gone. And given all that had happened the night before, she didn't want Damon to get the wrong idea.

"_If I see something I haven't seen before, I'll throw a dollar at it." _Damon's voice echoed in Elena's brain, teasing her for being such a prude, and propelling her forward, once again. _Why is it that I am always so attuned to Damon's thoughts, but when it comes to my own boyfriend, I am completely clueless?_ Elena wondered, shaking her head, as she approached the elder Salvatore brother's bedroom.

As it turns out, Elena needn't have worried about Damon getting the "wrong idea" about her coming into his bedroom, half-naked, first thing in the morning. He wasn't even in his room. Yet, judging by the wildly disheveled state of his bed sheets, Damon had suffered a far more restless night than she had, assuming he had slept at all.

Who could blame him, really? After all, just a few hours ago, Damon was pretty certain that he was going to die . . . _again_. And as for the ridiculously large bed Elena was staring at, well, it had come _extremely _close to being his _death_ bed . . . his FINAL death bed.

Suddenly, in desperate need of some air, Elena headed out toward the second floor balcony. It was there that she found Damon. Though he had obviously showered and changed his clothing from the night before, the elder Salvatore brother was still dressed in all black. Damon wore black A LOT. He was a man who seemed to be eternally in mourning for his own loss of human life. Yet, this time, the "life" Damon was mourning belonged, not to him, but to his own brother.

Damon stared pensively out into the distance. A glass of bourbon was balanced precariously on the ledge in front of him. Elena was about to scold him for his unhealthy choice of "breakfast." However, the words died on her tongue, before she said them. _Given all that Damon has endured, over the past few days, hasn't he earned a morning drink or two? _Elena thought. Heck, she could probably use a drink or two, herself.

"Sleep well?" Damon inquired, shaking Elena out of her reverie.

Damon's back was still turned to Elena, but he had obviously sensed her presence, the minute she had approached the door to the balcony, if not sooner. Damon always seemed to know exactly what Elena was thinking, sometimes even before she had the chance to think it. Of course, given the nature of some of Elena's thoughts lately, that "gift" was quickly becoming a dangerous prospect for both of them.

Tentatively, Elena approached the ledge of the balcony. Once there, she placed her elbows on the ledge, and stared out at the sun. Elena and Damon stood together like that for a few moments . . . not speaking . . . just quietly observing the natural world laid out before them . . . the trees . . . the grass . . . the flowers. These were the only parts of their universe that seemed to make sense, anymore.

While she was busy staring off into the abyss, Damon stole an appraising glance at Elena. _Cute P.J's._ He thought to himself with amusement, recalling instantly that these were the same pajamas Elena was wearing when he had first told her that he loved her, though he had ultimately compelled her to forget those words. Imagine Damon's surprise, when, the very next day, Elena brought those same pajamas to the Salvatore Mansion in her knapsack.

She made up some excuse about wanting Stefan to remember her when she was gone, and, blah, blah, blah. But a part of Damon couldn't help but wonder whether a small part of Elena's subconscious remembered Damon's declaration of love. And maybe . . . just maybe . . . she kept the outfit she was wearing on the night of Damon's declaration at the Salvatore Mansion, to let Damon know that she _knew_ deep down how he really felt about her.

Not that all this mattered now, considering that Damon had finally come clean to Elena about his feelings for her, the night before. He did it _for real_ this time . . . no magic tricks . . . no compulsion-induced amnesia, just two people telling one another, how they truly felt about one another. Well, one person, at least. Elena's thoughts about what happened that night still remained largely a mystery to him . . .

Damon noted that Elena had never answered his question about whether she had slept well. She didn't need to. The answer was written all over her face: the dark circles under her almond-shaped eyes . . . the puffiness and reddened rims around them, which only hours of crying could produce. This was the face of a girl who was suffering from a broken heart. And Damon, of all people, could relate to _that_.

"I called our mutual witch friend," Damon remarked conversationally, eager to cheer up his new roommate. "She'll be over in about a half an hour to do a tracking spell for Stefan.

Elena turned to look at Damon, her brow furrowed. "You and Bonnie talk on the _phone_, now?" She asked incredulously.

Damon smirked and took a long sip of his bourbon, as he regarded Elena, out of the corner of his eye. If he didn't know any better, he would think that she was _jealous. _"What, you think you're the only one who has all the members of our little Scooby Gang on speed dial?" He joked.

"No . . . um . . . of course, not. It's good . . . that you called her, I mean," Elena replied, hoping Damon hadn't read too much in to her initial reaction. "Because we need to find him, Damon. We need to find him, and we need to bring him _home_."

"I know," responded Damon, solemnly. "Man, this is such a Stefan thing to do, isn't it? My brother . . . the eternal martyr for The Cause."

Elena nodded grimly, but said nothing.

"And I can't help but wonder, if I would do the same thing he did, if I was in his position," Damon posited, more to himself than to Elena.

"You wouldn't . . . because you would choose me. You'll always choose me. And he'll always choose YOU. That's just the way things are," Elena remarked, a twinge of bitterness in her voice.

The minute the words escaped Elena's mouth, she instantly regretted them. How could she have said such a thing about her boyfriend . . . the man she supposedly loved . . . the man who had already sacrificed so much for her? And she had said it in front of Damon . . . of all people, which only made it ten times worse.

"I didn't mean that," Elena sputtered. "God, you must think I am SO conceited! I mean, obviously, if there was another option that didn't involve . . . _leaving_ . . . Stefan would have taken it. And you . . . you probably would have . . . I mean . . . he _is_ your brother and . . . if you . . ." Elena struggled to find the right words to extricate herself from the massive hole she had just dug for herself.

Impulsively, Damon grabbed both of Elena's wrists, and turned her body so that she was directly facing him. His blue-green eyes were blazing. Elena found the effect mesmerizing, to the point where she briefly wondered whether Damon was trying to compel her. But Elena's vervain necklace was still firmly around her neck. So, she was protected from any compulsion Damon might decide to use on her. And yet, there wasn't a necklace on the planet that could protect her from _herself?_

"You're right, you know," Damon admitted, staring intently at Elena's face. "I know it makes my brother a better person than I'll ever be. But, if it came down to one or the other, I would have chosen _you_ over him. Protecting you and keeping you safe . . . it's like drinking blood for me. I know it's wrong, sometimes. But I can't stop myself from doing it. When I said that to you the night of the dance, Elena, I meant it: I WILL always choose you."

Elena looked up at Damon. His eyes were so filled with love for her. And his delicate pink mouth was opened ever so slightly . . . _wanting_ . . . _waiting_. She felt herself being drawn closer to him, by a force she couldn't quite control. Her head was spinning. Damon's mouth was so close now, that she could smell the mixture of bourbon and toothpaste on his breath. Elena closed her eyes, and took a step forward . . .

"I better go get dressed, before Bonnie gets here," Elena explained, breaking free from Damon's grasp, as she dashed back into the house.

Damon Salvatore unconsciously raised his hand to his lips, as he stared at the retreating body of the woman he loved, with a mixture of longing and wonderment.

_9:58 a.m._

Damon opened the front door of the mansion, where a solemn-faced Bonnie Bennett stood waiting on the other side. On her shoulder rested a simple black canvas bag, undoubtedly filled with witchy paraphernalia. From the expression on Bonnie's face, you would think she was attending ANOTHER funeral, instead of performing a simple tracking spell that she must have performed dozens of times already in her short life as a witch. So, Damon decided to lighten the mood a bit.

"Hello, and welcome to the Elena Gilbert Mansion," begins Damon with an exaggerated bow. "My name is Damon Salvatore, and I will be your butler / sexy witches' assistant today. Elena will be right downstairs. She is just putting on some clothes," Damon sighs comically. "Girls and their pesky need to be covered up . . . tsk, tsk. I told her . . . 'Elena. Why bother getting dressed? Why not continue to prance around nude, as God intended?' Unfortunately, for both of us, she insisted."

Damon's insinuation that Elena was walking around the Salvatore Mansion "in the buff," caused Bonnie to raise an eyebrow, to which Damon responded with an evil grin and a sly wink. But then it occurred to Bonnie that he was probably kidding. And she chided herself for being so easily fooled.

"It's nice to see that certain death, and a nasty bout of were-rabies haven't dampened your sense of humor," Bonnie returned icily, though a glint in her eyes suggested to Damon that the young Bennett witch wasn't nearly as annoyed with the dashing vampire as she pretended to be.

Seeing an opening, Damon continued to play along, "Why thank you, Bonnie! Your excitement and obvious relief over my continued presence on this Earth, warms my _heart_ in ways you wouldn't believe," he replied, being sure to place lascivious emphasis on the word "heart," thereby giving the seemingly innocent statement another meaning entirely.

"Hi, Elena," Bonnie called out, her expression turning serious again, as her best friend emerged at the top of the staircase.

"Bonnie . . . you're here," Elena exclaimed, rushing down the steps and directly into her friend's open arms.

For a few moments, the two teens shared a wordless and highly emotional embrace, during which more was communicated than hours of conversation could have expressed.

Damon, feeling as though he was watching something he shouldn't be, quickly escaped to the living room to pour himself another drink. Shortly thereafter, Elena and Bonnie extricated themselves from one another, as Elena blotted her eyes with a tissue she conveniently stored in the pocket of her jeans, when she was getting dressed that morning. Given the morning she had _already_ had, Elena just knew it was going to be one of _those_ days.

"Gosh, I'm a terrible host. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?" Elena offered.

"No, I'm OK. I just had breakfast," Bonnie replied, as she moved toward the living room. "What you _can_ get me is something Stefan has worn recently, so I use it in the spell."

"Oh, I know the perfect thing," responded Elena excitedly. "There's this grey hoodie that he always keeps . . . right . . . _here_?"

Elena's eyes widened, as Damon wordlessly handed Bonnie the exact same hoodie she was describing. For a second, Elena convinced herself that Damon had snuck upstairs to get it, while Elena was talking, using his vampire speed. However, deep down, she knew better. "That hoodie was hanging on the door of Stefan's bedroom, when I went to bed last night," Elena said matter-of-factly, turning toward Damon.

"Yes, it was," agreed Damon, a sheepish expression on his face.

"You came in to get it while I was sleeping," Elena continued.

As she was saying these words, Elena vaguely remembered a strong but gentle hand, lovingly cupping her face, in the moments just before she fell asleep the night before. The owner of that hand gently ran his fingers through her hair, as he whispered in her ear, "Everything is going to be OK. I am going to _fix this_, if it is the last thing I do."

It was the cumulative effect of these actions that allowed Elena to feel safe and comfortable enough, to be lulled into a deep sleep, after hours lying awake crying. Elena's face reddened slightly, as she forcefully pushed the image out of her consciousness.

"I . . . uh . . . didn't want to wake you," Damon responded lamely.

Bonnie looked from Damon to Elena, and then back to Damon. Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder whether Elena was having some sort of secret affair with her boyfriend's older brother. There was just something about the way they acted around one another . . . the furtive, guilty, glances they exchanged, when they thought no one was looking. It reminded Bonnie of the way she and Jeremy used to act around one another, in public, before they finally mustered up the courage to reveal their relationship to their friends and families. And yet, Bonnie would never broach this subject with Elena, out of fear of possibly insulting her best friend. She hoped that if there _was _something going on between Damon and Elena, Elena would eventually trust Bonnie enough to tell her _herself_.

"Shall, we get started?" Bonnie inquired, eager to break the tension in the room.

Not hearing any responses to the contrary, Bonnie settled herself down on the living room floor. She then placed four white candles at her feet, methodically shifting their positions, until they formed a sort of diamond around her. Inside the "diamond" with Bonnie was Stefan's hoodie, the Grimoire, a piece of white paper, and a black Sharpie marker.

Damon and Elena watched intently, as Bonnie began chanting in some ancient language, her eyes shut tightly, while her hand gently caressed Stefan's hoodie. The candles around Bonnie began to flicker, creating a strobe-like effect, and casting eerie shadows across the witch's face. Then, suddenly, Bonnie's eyes popped open, though their expression was vacant and dazed. Slowly, she picked up the Sharpie and, without looking at the paper on which she was writing, jotted down three words, in large jagged handwriting that clearly was not her own.

Once she was finished, the candles all burned out, in unison. Bonnie's eyes returned to normal, as she lifted the paper to eye level, casually reading the words printed on it herself, before flipping it over to show Damon and Elena. "Anybody ever heard of a place called Bon Temps, Louisiana?" She asked.


	2. Chapter 2  Enjoy the Silence

**Author's Note: This next chapter is "inspired" by Anberlin's "Enjoy the Silence," which, of course, is the same song Damon and Vicki danced to, during the "Lost Girls" episode in Season 1. In addition to Damon and Elena, we will also be checking in with Klaus and Stefan, along with some True Blood veterans. While I haven't shifted this over to the "Crossover" story section, I'm hoping that you will agree that this is, at its heart, mostly a TVD tale. The True Blood characters are mainly here for support, comic relief, and to give some much-needed advice to our friends. **

_3:33 p.m._

The Quiet was messing with Damon's head. He wasn't used to being left alone for _this_ long with his "thoughts and feelings," and he didn't like it. Hours spent navel gazing, and contemplating the state of the universe, had always been more _Stefan's_ cup of tea. It was probably the reason Damon drank so much. The monotonous hum that took over his brain, after a few glasses of bourbon, was, not only very relaxing, it also helped him to avoid his own company. It prevented him from dealing with _things._

_Things_ like the fact that Elena hadn't said so much as one word to him, ever since they got into his car, en route to the Richmond International Airport, which was _two hours away. _That wasn't true, actually. She said _ten _words to him, right when he was pulling out of the driveway. They were: "Please . . . turn . . . off . . . the . . . music . . . Damon . . . I . . . have . . . a . . . headache."

So desperate was Damon for conversation that he briefly considered chatting up the computerized OnStar lady, who was providing him with directions to the airport from his dashboard. (He even named her "Tess.") Unfortunately, Tess' conversation skills were more or less limited to making observations like "Turn left on Martin Street," and "Continue on Route 9 for 5 miles."

Having accepted that it was never going to work out between him and Tess, Damon turned his attention to Elena, who, at the moment, was morosely staring out the window, her head cradled against the leather seat. She looked miserable. And Damon hated seeing her so unhappy. Empathy . . . it was one of the nastier side effects of having "feelings." Oh . . . and he was head over heels in love with her . . . and couldn't stop thinking about how good her lips tasted. So, there was that too . . .

Remembering how much fun he and Elena had during their LAST road trip to Georgia (granted it was under circumstances that were _quite_ different), Damon decided, once and for all, to break his travel companion out of her funk. In the elder Salvatore Brother's admittedly limited experience, whenever Elena got into moods like this, the best way to break her out of them was to annoy her. And if Damon was good at anything, it was getting under Elena's skin . . .

"So, you know those _Hangover_ movies?" Damon began, seemingly out of nowhere. "You know how those guys are always waking up the next morning, forgetting everything that happened the night before; and they always chalk it up to them taking really intense drugs, or something? Well, see, I have this theory that the writer of those films is actually a _vampire_, and that the so-called forgetting that happens in those movies is a subliminal nod to compulsion."

Elena turned toward Damon and rolled her eyes. "Really . . . _this_ is what you've been thinking about the whole time we've been driving to the airport to rescue your brother from some lunatic super freak werewolf-vampire combination . . . _The Hangover _movies?"

Damon grinned. _Jackpot. _"Well . . . I WOULD be using my eclectic music collection to help get me pumped up for our Big Rescue Mission, but SOMEONE has a _huge headache_, and won't let me listen," he quipped, removing his hands from the wheel briefly, to make air quotes around the phrase _huge headache_.

Elena wrinkled her nose. "Truthfully, I don't like your taste in music, Damon. All the songs you listen to are dark, angry and depressing," she admitted.

"What?" Damon made an exaggerated show of offense. "_My_ music is not dark, angry and depressing. _You _aredark, angry and depressing."

Elena smiled ruefully, and nodded. "Touché," she replied.

OK. So, now he'd gotten her warmed up. That was a start. But if he _truly_ wanted to make the next couple of days between him and Elena bearable, Damon knew that they were going to have to discuss the 800-pound elephant in the car. "So, are we ever going to talk about what happened last night?" Damon asked, suddenly intently focused on the road ahead.

Elena sighed deeply. She knew she was going to have to have this conversation eventually. Damon generally wasn't the type to let things fester. She turned toward him. "I'm glad you're OK, Damon. I mean if Katherine hadn't brought the cure when she did . . . I . . . I don't know what I would do, if . . . I lost you _too._"

Damon nodded solemnly. Elena genuinely _cared_ about him. That aspect of their relationship had already been established many times before. And he was finally allowing himself to belief it. But THAT wasn't what was causing things to be awkward between them, and she knew it. "I know . . . and . . . what you did for me . . . the kindness you showed me . . . I didn't know humanity could be so GOOD, until I met you," he said softly.

"Trust me, I'm not _that_ good," Elena replied.

"You are, Elena. I've never met someone with such a pure heart, which is why I . . ."

"You want to know why I kissed you, and what that meant," Elena interrupted.

Damon paused for a second, surprised. He had always assumed that, if anyone was going to bring up this particular conversation topic, it was going to have to be _him. _"You know, if you did it out of pity, it's OK. I get it . . . I mean, there I was, all sweaty and vulnerable, and making all these confessions. And you probably thought, 'I should just give him what he wants, he's going to die anyway, right?' And then, I _didn't _die. I just want you to be . . ."

Elena impulsively grabbed on to Damon's arm, just as he had done to her, earlier in the morning. The heat and intensity of her touch would have probably caused Damon to swerve off the road, if they weren't currently stuck in traffic. Damon looked wide-eyed at the positioning of Elena's hand, and then back to her eyes, which were now staring at him intently.

"I didn't kiss you out of _pity_, Damon. I don't do things out of _pity. _I don't want you to think that. Seeing you lying there . . . how you were . . . it stirred up a lot of emotions in me . . . feelings that I didn't know that I had . . . feelings that didn't all necessarily make sense to me at the time, and still don't. To be honest, I'm still trying to figure all that out. I just . . . I think I need some time."

The traffic started moving again. Realizing that her hand was still on Damon's arm, Elena self-consciously pulled it away, and put it in her pocket.

Damon smiled good-naturedly. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but it was certainly a start. He could almost feel the tension in the car dissipating. "Well, thanks to Klaus' blood, _time_ is something we have in abundance," he offered jokingly. "So, NOW can I put some music on? Come on . . . I'll even let you pick the station."

Elena shook her head. "In about twenty minutes we will be at airport. And you will have plenty of noise to keep you out of your own head. But, for now, if you don't mind, I'd just really like some _silence._"

Damon laughed. _Noise to keep you out of your own head_ . . . She really did understand him better than anyone else. It was infuriating, really. But he wasn't about to let her win this battle, not when he had been so well behaved the entire car ride. And so he began to sing, "Words like violence break the _silence . . . _They come crashing in . . . into my little world."

Elena groaned. "DAMON!" She whined.

"Painful to me . . . pierce right through me . . . Can't you understand, oh, my little girl?" Damon continued, now using his non-driving hand as a makeshift microphone.

Grudgingly, Elena had to admit that she liked this song. "Dark and angry," as it was, it had always been one of her parents' favorites. They used to blast it from the speakers outside the lake house on lazy summer Sundays, singing the song off-key at the top of their lungs. As soon as Elena and Jeremy were old enough to learn the lyrics, they would sing it too. And so, to Damon's pleasant surprise, Elena picked up the third stanza, herself. "All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, is here . . . in my arms."

"YEAH! GO, ELENA!" Damon exclaimed excitedly.

They finished the chorus together, singing loud, and more than a bit off-key, "Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm."

Knowing victory was now his, Damon reached over to his iPod, which was connected to the car speakers, and selected the Anberlin version of "Enjoy the Silence." This time, Elena did not argue. The pair sang the song from beginning to end together, with Damon using the dashboard of the car as a makeshift drum, and Elena accompanying him on air guitar. They were having such a good time, that they almost missed the exit to the airport . . .

_6:12 p.m._

It was Elena's first time flying First Class. Traveling with a vampire definitely had its perks. Under normal circumstances, she probably would have given Damon a hard time about compelling the airline attendant to offer them prime seats on an already overbooked flight. But the next flight to Louisiana wasn't for another two hours. And who knew where Klaus would have taken Stefan by then?

Snuggling up in her free fleece blanket, courtesy of Delta Airlines (When flying coach, she was lucky if she got a second bag of peanuts.), Elena glanced out the airplane window, and was captivated by how perfect the world looked from this altitude. Smog, pollution, death, decay, destruction . . . none of it was visible from up here. There was a part of her that wished she could just float in the sky like this, forever. "Hey Damon, what mountain range is that?" She inquired, pointing to a snow-topped mass of brown below.

"Damon?"

Damon's eyes were closed; and his mouth parted open, ever so slightly. At first, Elena wondered whether he might be faking it. However, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, told her that he was, in fact, asleep. Though, unfortunately, Elena had seen Damon _unconscious_ quite a few times, this was the first time she'd ever seen him just _sleeping_. Before this, there were times when she wondered whether he _ever _slept.

Watching Damon doze, Elena was amazed by how_ innocent_ he looked . . . almost boyish. Gone were the furrowed brow, the smirking mouth, and the intense eyes that were perpetually filled with knowledge and sarcasm. It was as if the burden of hundreds of years of disappointment and heartache had disappeared from his face.

Awake, Damon may have been a dangerous vampire. But asleep, he was just a carefree 20-something, simply catching some Z's. Elena noted that Damon has never looked more beautiful to her than he did now. There was just something about the way the light from the window caressed the contours of his face . . . the way his eyes fluttered lightly behind their lids, as if engaged in a soothing dream. If she hadn't been so worried he would wake up, Elena probably would have taken a picture of Damon, in this quiet moment.

Overtaken with tenderness for her sleeping travel companion, Elena removed the fleece blanket from around her shoulders, and placed it across Damon's body, gently tucking in the edges behind his back. As she did this, a small sleepy smile turned up the corners of Damon's mouth. Feeling drowsy, herself, from the stresses of the past few days, Elena rested her head on Damon's shoulder, and allowed her own eyes to drift closed.

_7:17 p.m._

Vampire Pam was bored. There was not one thing about working the front door at Fangtasia that she enjoyed. She DESPISED the corny S&M fantasy leather getup she was expected to wear. And she hated with a passion the dim-witted tourists who constantly wanted their picture taken with her, and, who would, inevitably, ask her to bite them, once they'd had a few too many. Here she was, a sophisticated, intelligent vampire, who spoke twelve languages, had mastered five musical instruments, and, in her heyday, used to dine with kings and queens. Now look at her? She was a glorified bouncer, performing a job that anyone with a third grade education, and a little muscle, could manage.

These were the thoughts that were running through Pam's head, when her first customer approached the entrance to the bar. He was a vampire, which was unusual, considering that most of her kind were just waking up from the crypts about now. In terms of physical appearance, he looked about 17 or 18. But by the way he walked and carried himself, she could tell he was much older . . . at least a _century _older . . . possibly even around _her_ age. He was also not from around here, as evidenced by the Rental Car plates on his Honda Civic.

Pam decided to have a bit of fun with her new "client." "Can I see some ID, please?" she inquired, when the vampire reached the entrance.

"I left it at home," remarked Stefan Salvatore evenly, but Pam couldn't help but notice a certain menace behind his words.

_We've got ourselves a live one!_ She thought to herself . . . a live one that eats humans, and LOTS of them. The unmistakable stench of human blood on Stefan's breath was both overpowering and intoxicating to Pam. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she's consumed a human to the point of death. She felt her fangs jut out reflexively, and found herself wishing she had fed before work.

"Oh, well, that's OK," Pam offered congenially.

Stefan smiled, but it is not a kind smile. "Thank you for being so understanding," he replied icily.

But Pam was not about to be so easily intimidated. In fact, as far as she was concerned, the fun was just getting started. "You can get in your car, drive back home, get your ID, and bring it back. I'll still be here," she answered with the most innocent smile she could muster

Stefan looked flustered for a moment, which pleased Pam immensely. However, he quickly recovered, allowing the Tough Guy façade to take over his features, once again. "It's in Mystic Falls," he offered, matter-of-factly.

"Where the f*&k is Mystic Falls?" Pam asked haughtily.

"Is there a problem, here?" A blonde vampire inquired, as he magically materialized behind Stefan.

Pam noted that _this _guy was, not only much older, and stronger, than his companion, he was also a way bigger douchebag. The second vampire's supercilious accent immediately set Pam on edge, and made her feel instinctively sorry for Stefan, who she assumed must be with him for his money . . . or s_omething_. But it was not just Klaus' accent, and his arrogance, that Pam didn't like. There was something else . . . something about his _smell_. If she didn't know better, she would think the blonde vampire was also a _werewolf._

"Yes, there is a problem," Stefan replied coolly to Klaus, offering Pam a sly smile, to illustrate to her that the alliances have changed; he was on HER side now. "When we came here, you gave me the impression that you and the owner of this _fine_ establishment were very well acquainted. You also informed me that he and his associates would be expecting our arrival. And yet, clearly, based on . . . what's your name?"

"Pam," the vampire vixen replied. She was enjoying Stefan more and more, by the minute.

"Thank you. . . based on _Pam's_ treatment of me, when I first arrived here, you seem to have overestimated the strength of your business connections here," concluded Stefan smugly.

Though Klaus was obviously infuriated by the undermining of his authority by his new protégé, and some anonymous vampire wench, Klaus refused to appear rattled. "I'm sure there must be some misunderstanding," the Original Were-Vamp offered graciously. "You see, I'm _Klaus_."

"What the f*&k is a _Klaus_?" Pam asked.

This latest inquiry caused Stefan to stifle a laugh, as a low growl emitted from Klaus' throat. The latter briefly contemplated compelling Vampire Pam to lie naked in the middle of the road, so Klaus could drive over her with his rental car. But that would be too easy. After all, like he always said, "A real Ripper loves the hunt."

Klaus moved quickly, so that he was now behind Vampire Pam, with his arm wrapped around her chest. With his free hand, the Old Vampire began gently running his fingers across her throat, in a gesture that was undoubtedly sexual, yet threatening, at the same time, "Listen, you Little Bi+*h," he whispered in her ear. "If you don't . . ."

"Well, well, well . . . look what we have here," remarked a husky masculine voice from behind Klaus' head.

Vampire Pam breathed an instinctive sigh of relief, upon hearing the unmistakable sound of her Maker.

"Now, Klaus, I know you are hungry from your long journey. But I really would appreciate it, if you refrained from eating my child," explained the Viking Vamp calmly.

"Eric Northman . . . you haven't changed a bit," joked Klaus, as he relinquished Vampire Pam from his grasp.

Then Klaus did something that shocked BOTH Pam AND Stefan. He walked up to Vampire Eric, grinned, and pulled him in for a deep manly hug.


	3. Chapter 3  You Always Get What You Want

**Author's Note: The title of this chapter is inspired by Atomic Tom's "You Always Get What You Want," which was featured in the TVD episode, "Katerina." Many of you were understandably curious, as to how I would reconcile the differences between TVD and True Blood vampires. In terms of the vampires' respective "lifestyles" and physical appearances, you will find a simplified explanation here. However, I was forced to tweak one "minor" aspect of True Blood canon to complete this story. Here, rather than have vampires be universally public, they have only publicized their existence in CERTAIN states. This slight tweak allowed me to create a world, where Damon, Stefan and Klaus have "secret" identities, whereas Eric, Pam, and Jessica are "publicly" vampires.**

_7:30 p.m. – Merlotte's Bar and Grill_

From the moment Damon and Elena walked into Merlotte's, they were all anybody in the bar could talk or think about. The last time Sookie had seen the Bon Temps' drinking crowd this excited about _anything_, was a few years back, when the bar had its very first _vampire_ patron.

"Mmm . . . mmm . . .mmm! Break me off a piece of that leather-jacketed Hunk of Man Chocolate!" Lafayette cooed, fanning himself with a spatula, as Damon briefly passed by the bar, and led Elena to a booth by the window.

Sookie playfully punched Lafayette in the stomach, as she slid a beer across the bar to an already inebriated Jane Bodehouse. "Lafayette Reynolds, you put that naughty tongue of yours back into your mouth! You are SPOKEN FOR! What would Jesus say, if he heard you talking like that about some stranger you've never even met?"

Lafayette smiled seductively, rubbing his hands together with glee. "For your information, I know EXACTLY what he would say. One word: THREESOME."

Sookie rolled her eyes and laughed, as she pulled her order pad and pen out of her pocket. "You are incorrigible!" She scolded good-naturedly.

Though Bon Temps' One and Only Telepathic Waitress generally tried her best not to use her mind-reading powers to eavesdrop on bar patrons, she couldn't help but be a bit curious about the out-of-town couple. The man was a vampire, one who looked like he had turned sometime in his early-twenties. Though he didn't have ghastly pale skin, or red-rimmed eyes, like the vampires with which Sookie was familiar, she could tell immediately _what_ he was, due to her frustrating inability to read his mind.

Fortunately, for Sookie, Elena was a big enough mental broadcaster for the two of them. From _her_, the enterprising waitress pieced together that the pair had come from a place called Mystic Falls, in search of HER boyfriend, Stefan, who just so happened to be the vampire's _brother_. The vampire with whom Stefan ran off, was apparently, VERY bad news. So, both Elena and "Damon" were extremely worried for his safety. As if that wasn't stressful enough, Damon was in LOVE with Elena. And, because the pair had recently exchanged an arguably chaste kiss at a very intense moment in their lives, Elena was starting to wonder whether she might have feelings for _him_ too.

_Man, and I thought my love life was complicated!_ Sookie thought to herself, as she put on one of her trademark "Don't worry, I'm not really digging for gold, inside your brain" smiles, and stopped in front of Damon and Elena's table. "Hi, welcome to Merlotte's! My name is Sookie, and I'll be your server today. Can I start y'all off with something to drink?" She asked, a bit too eagerly.

"Actually, we are kind of here on business," explained Elena, as she dug in her purse for a photograph. "We were wondering if you might have seen . . . _OWW!_ What did you do that for?" Elena yelped, as Damon purposefully nudged her with his foot under the table, a bit harder than he had initially intended.

"I'm sorry. We're going to need a few minutes . . . maybe even _more than that_," Damon said politely, flashing Sookie a 100-watt smile of his own.

To Sookie's amusement, she noted, based on the way Damon's eyes glowed, ever –so-slightly, when he spoke, that the vampire had been trying to glamour her to stay away from their table, so he could discuss something important with Elena. Little did this out-of-town vamp know, that crap just plain didn't work on her. Sookie was totally and completely immune to any and all methods of vampire compulsion. Nevertheless, she decided to play along. "As you wish," replied Sookie, trying to approximate the dazed look of a recently-glamoured human.

As she walked away from the table, however, Sookie managed to give a secret wink to Elena, and subtly nod her head toward the Ladies' Room. Elena smiled and winked back. Message sent . . . and _received._

"What the hell is your problem?" Elena asked pointedly, turning her attention back to her dining companion. "In case you haven't noticed, we are in a strange town . . . a thousand miles away from home . . . and we don't know ANYBODY! How exactly do you expect us to find Stefan, if we don't even ASK PEOPLE IF THEY'VE SEEN HIM?"

Damon leaned toward Elena, his eyes fiercely determined, and his fists passionately clenched, as if he couldn't decide whether he wanted to KILL her, or throw her on top of the bar, rip her clothes off, and have his way with her, while the entire town of Bon Temps watched. Elena pinched herself underneath the table, in an effort to push all of these naughty thoughts of Damon out of her brain, so that she could focus on winning this argument.

"In case YOU haven't noticed," Damon began, matching her annoyed tone, "This is _Klaus_ we're dealing with. Remember _Klaus . . . _the guy who took over Alaric's body, and . . . um . . . what else did he do? Wait . . . it's coming to me . . . oh, yeah . . . KILLED YOU? The guy who has the power to compel _anybody_, possess _anybody,_ and pretty much _kill_ anybody, all with about as much effort as it takes for you to brush your teeth in the morning? You are right, Elena. We _don't _know anybody here. And ANY of these people . . . including that chipper barmaid you were making googly eyes with earlier . . . (YES I saw that) . . . could either actually BE Klaus in disguise, or be working for him?"

Elena sighed exasperatedly, as she settled back in the booth, folding her arms across her chest. "So, what . . . we are just supposed to SIT HERE, eat some curly fries, and wait for Stefan to come to _us_? Every second that we waste, is time that Klaus could be HURTING Stefan. He could KILL him, Damon. Would YOU be able to live with that . . . after everything your brother sacrificed to save _your_ life? Because,_ I_ couldn't."

Damon looked down at his dinner napkin, and noticed, to his chagrin, that he had ripped it to shreds, during the course of this conversation. Why did Elena always seem so wise, when it came to knowing exactly what to say to get under his skin, but so frustratingly naïve when it came to her own safety? "I know that, Elena. You think I don't know that time is of the essence? You think that it never occurred to me that whatever happens to Stefan from here on in will essentially be MY fault? All I'm saying is that we have to be SMART, here. We have to come up with some kind of plan, before we go barging into Klaus' lair, guns blazing. If I've learned ONE thing in this past year, it's THAT."

Elena nodded, as she absent-mindedly twirled the salt-shaker with her fingers. "OK. Then, what's your _plan_, Damon? What's your Big _Smart _Plan to save Stefan from Klaus?"

Damon smiled ruefully. _Elena – 1, Damon – 0_, he thought to himself. "Unfortunately, I haven't exactly figured that out yet."

"Well, you try and 'figure it out.' I'm going to use the ladies' room," Elena replied icily, trying to hide the sh*t-eating grin that was already forming at the corners of her mouth. _Victory!_

"Elena!" Damon called after her. "Don't be going to the bathroom to . . ."

But Elena had already disappeared behind the restroom door. " . . . share all your secrets with the overly perky bar wench," he concluded softly to himself.

Damon growled and pounded his fist against the table, causing the water glass in front of him to topple over, drenching his pants in cold liquid.

In a flash, Lafayette was out from behind the bar, with a dishtowel in his hand, as if he had been waiting for this moment, all his life. So, what if he was, technically, the short-order cook, and NOT the busboy? The way he saw it, life was all about seeing opportunities and grabbing for them. No pun intended. "Can I clean that up for you, sir?" Lafayette inquired, with a wink.

Damon instinctively shrunk back a bit in his seat. "No, that's OK," he said politely. "It's just water, right? It's not like anybody _died_ . . . yet."

Lafayette nodded, looking a bit disappointed.

"However, you CAN get me two tall glasses of your strongest bourbon," Damon offered.

"Coming right up," answered Lafayette, as he rushed toward the bar.

_Hey, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. _Damon thought, as he placed his hands behind his head to make himself more comfortable. Something told him this was going to be a LOOOONG NIGHT.

_7:45 p.m. – Fangtasia Bar and Nightclub_

Since Klaus and Stefan had already had a large dinner, Eric Northman, ever the gracious host, offered his guests a scrumptious "dessert" of two curvaceous fangbangers, both dressed in matching red leather bustiers. "Dessert" gave the out-of-town vampires each impressively well-choreographed lap dances, while allowing their "clients" to occasionally take "nips" out of their neck, chest and inner thigh. Once the two self-proclaimed "Rippers" had their fill, however, the conversation at the table returned to business.

"I brought you a gift," Klaus offered, deftly removing a small velvet ring-sized box from his coat pocket, and passing it toward the Viking Vampire.

Eric looked dubiously at his friend's offering. "While I am flattered by your proposal, I must say, I can't marry you. My heart belongs to another blonde," he replied.

Klaus chuckled. "I don't wish to _propose _to you, Eric. I wish to offer you an amazing opportunity," he explained, as he opened the box, and removed the simple gold band from it. "As a member of the first vampire family, I have no need for trinkets such as these. However, I suspect this will be very valuable to_ you_. Put on this ring, my friend, and you will no longer be a Prisoner of the Night. My gift will allow you to walk in the Sunlight, among men . . . and gods."

Eric removed the ring from its casing, and examined it carefully, clearly intrigued by its prospects. Klaus was probably the most ruthless vampire Eric knew. And yet, he was also unfailingly honest. Though the Original Vampire was not above using tricky wordplay to manipulate his enemies, Eric often found that the things he said were always 100% truthful.

Besides, Klaus had no reason to betray Eric. After all, he had obviously traveled this far to make a request so burdensome it could only be delivered in person. Clearly, such a "favor" would leave Klaus in Eric's debt for the considerable future. Why jeopardize that, by hurting him?

Still, Eric had questions. "How does it work . . . this Sunscreen Ring of yours? Is it somehow enchanted?"

Klaus smiled knowingly. When he had chosen to give Eric the ring, he knew that, inevitably, his friend would ask this particular question. He also knew that the Viking Vampire was not going to like his answer. "This ring was given its power by a friend of mine, now dearly departed."

Eric raised his eyebrows. "You mean a _witch_."

Klaus nodded. "Dear boy, you simply MUST get over your petty prejudices! It is a new world in which we live. The Inquisition has come and gone. We no longer have to live in fear of angry women in black flowing coats and pointy hats. These days, a witch can be the most powerful weapon you have in your arsenal, provided you know how to control her . . . _or him_."

Eric quickly returned the ring to its casing, and pushed the box back across the table to Klaus. "I don't mean to be ungracious, but I want no part in your dead witch's so-called _gift_. I am perfectly content with my life, as it is."

"_Yours _is an incomplete life . . . one spent sipping on synthetic swill masquerading as blood, and sleeping in the dirt, with the hogs, the rats, and the fetid decaying mortals," scoffed Klaus.

Klaus' words had clearly rattled Eric. However, the younger vampire refused to let his friend to know he had gotten the best of him. "You forget that, where I LIVE, vampires already HAVE the power to walk among men _and gods_, provided the moon is high, and the stars are shining above. _We _don't need to live in the shadows. Humans accept us as their brethren. And we don't need to sport fancy tans, or sleep above ground, for this to be so. I am a vampire. And I'm not ashamed of who _I am_, or how _I live,_" Eric retorted.

Klaus began to clap slowly and patronizingly, causing Eric's fangs to emerge. "Bravo! An excellent speech . . . and yet so fundamentally short-sighted. You see, friend, no matter how many local governments you form, or vampire rights amendments you pass in your state . . . no matter how many times you bend to lick the boots of the living, they will NEVER EVER ACCEPT YOU AS ONE OF THEIR OWN."

"And no matter how many over-priced pieces of jewelry you wear, YOU will never pass for one of_ them_," responded Eric, his face now inches away from Klaus. "They will always see you for _exactly_ what you are, a pointy toothed imposter, with blood on his mouth."

Suddenly, both Eric and Klaus were laughing uproariously, as if the entire intense debate between them had been nothing but an extended inside joke. Of course, both Stefan and Pam knew better. "Ahh, Klaus . . ." began Eric congenially. "I could sit and debate the merits of various forms of vampirism with you, forever. But I know that is NOT the real reason you came here. So, why don't you tell me what exactly it is that you want?"

_7:46 – Merlotte's Bar and Grill_

By the time Elena had arrived in the ladies' room, Sookie was already there, fixing her ponytail in the mirror. "Now, let's see a picture of that Missing Boyfriend of yours," offered Sookie excitedly.

"But how did you . . ." Elena began, confused.

"Oh, I have my ways," interrupted the waitress.

Elena dubiously handed the picture over to her new friend.

"Oooh, he's cute," exclaimed Sookie. "Surely, I'd remember if I saw _him_. Unfortunately, I've got nothing. I wish I could be of more help to you." She concluded apologetically.

Elena looked deflated. "That's OK," she said politely. "But . . . if you could just keep an eye out. And, maybe, pass this picture along to your friends, I'd really appreciate it. I'll give you my cell phone number, so you can call me if you hear anything." She offered.

Sookie took the picture, and gently slid it into the pocket of her apron, as Elena programmed her own number into Sookie's cell phone, which was conveniently positioned on top of the sink.

"Of course, honey. I'd be glad to do it," Sookie readily agreed. "But . . . it's just that . . . nah . . . I shouldn't say anything."

Elena's eyes lit up. Maybe the waitress DID have information about Stefan, after all. "No! Say what you were going to say, please." She pleaded.

"Well . . . I couldn't help but notice that you and . . ."

"Damon," Elena piped in, trying, in vain, to hide her annoyance. (She knew _exactly _where this little chat was going.)

"Yeah . . . I couldn't help but notice that you and _Damon_ seem to have something pretty serious going on between you two. And . . . well, I don't mean to pry, or anything . . . but . . . as someone who's been caught between two vampires before, let me tell you, you sure as heck BETTER figure out your feelings for _Damon_, before you go chasing after _Stefan_ . . . because if you don't, all three of you will end up regretting it."

Elena ran her fingers through her hair nervously, and sighed. (_Great! Even complete strangers can tell I'm starting to have feelings for, Damon. _She thought to herself.) "No, Damon and I are . . . well . . . it's complicated," she sputtered, turning on the faucet at full blast, as a not-so-subtle indicator that this particular conversation was very much over.

"It always is, honey . . . It _always is_," Sookie replied, gently patting Elena on the shoulder, as she exited the bathroom.

As the door closed behind Sookie, a red-headed vampire, who looked about Elena's age, excitedly bounded out of one of the bathroom stalls. "Man, I thought she'd never _leave_! My name's Jessica," the vampire offered, holding her hand out for Elena to shake.

Elena looked from Jessica, to the bathroom stall from which she just emerged, dubiously, as she dried her own hands with a paper towel. _Ick. _She thought to herself.

Jessica laughed, seemingly reading her mind. "I promise you, I didn't _actually_ pee, or make Number 2. I was just waiting in there, because I wanted to talk to you. And I knew that Judgy McJudgerson, out there, wasn't going to like what I had to say. "

Elena smiled to herself. Jessica reminded her so much of her friend Caroline, that she immediately felt as though she had known the teen vamp for years. She ultimately held out her hand for Jessica to shake. The latter took it gratefully, and shook it vigorously. "Is _this_ your boyfriend?" Jessica asked, holding up her cell phone to show Elena a picture she had just received from her friend, via text message.

Upon seeing this picture, Elena became so excited, that she very nearly started jumping up and down, right there in the dirty bar bathroom. "YES! That's STEFAN! Do you know where he is?"

Jessica smiled mischievously at Elena. "Have you ever been to a _real_ vampire bar?" The female vamp inquired.


	4. Chapter 4  We Radiate

**Author's Note: The title of this chapter is inspired by Goldfrapp's "We Radiate," which was featured in TVD's episode, "Memory Lane." I hope you enjoy it!**

_8:02 p.m. – Merlotte's Bar and Grill_

Elena emerged from the bathroom to find Damon deep in conversation with an unbelievably attractive blonde man, who looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties. The hard-bodied male had clearly made himself at home in the side of the booth previously occupied by Elena, herself. His long legs dangled across the bench. And his heavily muscled arms were sprawled out across the radiator behind him.

The table, which had been empty when Elena left it (save for a couple of paper placemats), was now littered with beer bottles and empty highball glasses. The two ridiculously good-looking men were laughing uproariously over a story the blonde man was telling, which, judging by the guilty looks on both guys' faces, upon noticing Elena's presence, was decidedly sexual in nature.

_So much for not trusting strangers, _Elena thought to herself, glibly, as she extended her hand to her vampire companion's new best friend. "Hi, I'm Elena Gilbert," she said, with a polite smile. "And I see you and _Damon_ have already met."

The blonde man nearly leapt out of his seat to shake Elena's hand. A large goofy grin spread across his face, as he did this, making the full-grown adult look rather childlike and innocent. And yet, Elena could already tell, based on the story he was telling Damon, that he was most certainly _neither_. "Heyyyyy, Elena Gil-bert! I'm Jason Stackhouse. Your boyfrie . . . er . . . _Damon_ . . . told me all about you! I feel like I know you already!"

"Oh he _did_, did he?" Elena asked, with a pointed look in Damon's direction.

"Yeah . . . but he didn't tell me you were a supermodel," Jason exclaimed, raising Elena's hand to his lips, and kissing it gently.

"Hey! Watch it," Damon joked, with a smirk. "She's taken."

"Sorry," Jason replied, placing his hand in front of his mouth, to stage whisper to Elena. "Hey, if that guy over there ever gives you any trouble," he offered, jerking his hand in Damon's direction, "you just call your new pal, Jason. I will kick his ass from here to next Sunday."

Elena laughed. "I may just take you up on that, Jason."

Jason then gave an exaggerated bow to the table, and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "Listen, I'd love to stay and hang out with you guys, but I better be calling myself a cab. My sister works here. And she will _kill me_, if she sees me this wasted on a week night."

Damon winked. "Your secret is safe with us, Jason. As far as we are concerned, you were never here."

"Nice meeting you, Jason," Elena added.

"Thanks, you too," replied the more than slightly inebriated, Jason, as he headed toward the door. "Oh . . . you better keep an eye out for your travel buddy, over there, Elena. He sure knows how to knock back those drinks! The dude drank me under the table!"

"I'll try," offered Elena, stepping sideways, so that she was standing directly over Damon's seat.

"I can't leave you alone for a second, can I?" Elena inquired, with a feigned annoyance that was belied by the smile that was forming at the corners of her mouth.

"Nope . . . guess not," replied Damon, cheekily, his blue-green eyes disarming Elena with their effortless charm.

Elena extended her hand in front of Damon's face. "Come on . . . get up," she said. "We have places to go, and people to see."

"Oh _really_," said Damon, flirtatiously. "Could you be more specific? Because, I'm kind of happy staying right where I am."

"I may have figured out where Klaus has taken Stefan," Elena replied.

"That must have been one productive trip to the ladies' room," remarked Damon, gently grabbing on to Elena's hand, and clasping it, in a way that sent shivers throughout her body.

"It _was,_" insisted Elena, pulling gently on Damon's arm.

It wasn't until Damon rose from his seat, that Elena realized just how drunk he actually was. Rising from the booth, Damon stumbled over his own feet, and fell forward, right into Elena. On instinct, Elena wrapped a hand around Damon's waist, and placed her other hand on his chest, to keep him from falling.

They stayed like that for a few moments, mesmerized by one another's eyes, and aroused by the heat of one another's touch. For the second time that day, Damon and Elena found themselves in this position, with their faces inches apart, and their hearts beating in unison . . . secretly not wanting the moment to end, but knowing, full well, the reason it needed to do precisely that.

After a few beats, Damon righted himself, and managed to stand on his own. "Sorry about that," he muttered breathlessly. "I may have overdone it a bit with the bourbons."

"Gee, ya think?" Elena inquired, sarcastically.

_I almost kissed him! I can't believe I almost kissed him. Here I am, on this supposed mission to rescue Stefan from Klaus, and all I can think about is kissing Damon . . . drunken . . . impulsive . . . irresponsible, Damon. What the heck has gotten in to me? _She thought to herself, trying to cover up her true feelings by amplifying her annoyance over Damon's bad behavior. "Give me the keys. I'm DRIVING!" She scolded, reaching into Damon's right pants pocket to collect her prize.

"Umm . . . those aren't the _keys_," Damon remarked wryly, as Elena's hand accidentally brushed against something hard and distinctly _un-key_ like, through the fabric of Damon's jeans.

"Sorry," she mumbled, as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks.

Damon haphazardly tossed a one-hundred dollar bill on the bar, as he moved toward the door. Noticing him weaving ever so slightly, as he headed into the cool night air, Elena sighed, wrapping her arm around his waist once again to keep him steady. As she did this, Damon fumbled in his LEFT pants pocket for the car keys, which he promptly handed over to Elena, with a sheepish grin.

Elena found herself in close contact with Damon for a _third_ time, as she dumped his strong, but not particularly obedient, body into the passenger seat of the car. Errant limbs and body parts became entangled with one another, as Elena had to practically climb over Damon to adjust the car seat to accommodate for his long legs. Damon groaned a bit, when she struggled to put on his seat belt for him. However, eventually he complied with her wishes, groggily laying his heavy head on the headrest, and closing his eyes to prevent the world from spinning out of control. He was getting drunker by the minute.

Putting the key in the ignition, Elena turned toward Damon with a mixture of concern, amusement, and frustration. "So, basically, I can count on you to be COMPLETELY useless tonight?"

"Noooooo, I'm never useless," Damon slurred. "Well . . . sometimes I am . . . I guess. But vampires process liquor fast. We are quick to drunk . . . and even quicker to sober. I should be my charming self in an hour, tops."

"Well, THAT'S a relief," remarked Elena, sardonically, as she typed Fangtasia's address into the On-Star system, and backed out of the driveway of Merlotte's.

"Elena," Damon mumbled, his voice sounding far-away, as if he was half-asleep.

"Yes, Damon," she replied.

"You are beautiful . . . and perfect . . . in every way . . . He'd be crazy . . . to let you go."

"Sober up, Damon. We've got work to do," Elena replied tonelessly, as she took a glance in her rearview mirror.

And yet, when she saw her reflection, she was surprised to find herself beaming from ear-to-ear.

_8:10 p.m. – Fangtasia Bar and Nightclub_

Having sent away their respective "underlings," Eric and Klaus promptly retired to Eric's office, in order to discuss "business."

"It is my understanding that the werewolf community in Louisiana is one of the largest and most organized in the world," began Klaus conversationally. "Is that correct?"

Eric nodded, uncertain as to where this was going. "Why yes, that's true. But what importance is that to you? Were you planning on writing some kind of Louisiana Travel Guide for your bloodsucking buddies back home?"

Klaus smiled slightly, but otherwise ignored his friend's sarcasm. "Do you think you could get me in touch with the leaders of that community? I would very much like to speak to them. And I suspect that a testimonial from the Vampire Sheriff of Area Five will offer my message a certain amount of credibility."

Eric leaned forward in his office chair, his eyebrows furrowed. He was not sure he liked the direction in which this conversation was headed. "My dear Klaus, of course, I would have no trouble brokering the connection you seek. And yet, I must ask, why on Earth is it your intention to consort with the likes of smelly unhygienic flea bags?"

Klaus clasped his hands together, a frighteningly intense look in his eyes. "I wish to build an army . . . a very _unique_ army, with a rather _specialized _skill set. Only werewolves possess this particular skill set. Plus, I consider them expendable_. _And, I suspect that the war I plan to start will result in many casualties._"_

Eric rose from his seat, and began pacing around the perimeter of his office. As old a friend as Klaus was, the Viking Vampire simply wouldn't abide a _war _being started in his own territory. It would put too many of his people at risk. It would put _Sookie_ at risk."

Klaus instinctively intuited his friend's concerns. "Wipe that constipated look off your face, Mr. Northman. I wouldn't be stupid enough to start a war in a territory where the Supernatural World has such a public presence. That would be suicide. Besides, it would destroy the element of surprise. And, as you know, there is nothing I cherish more than a good surprise. No sir. _My war_ will begin in the great state of Virginia, in a small town called Mystic Falls."

Eric was beyond relieved to hear this, but tried his best to appear unaffected by his companion's most recent admission. A good leader never lets the enemy smell his fear. And when you are a Vampire Sheriff, _everyone_ is an enemy, even your oldest and dearest friends. "Good to know," he replied, with an air of boredom. "And, just out of curiosity, how many of Louisiana's 500 finest werewolves are you planning to need for this _army _of yours."

Klaus grinned widely, raising a rather expensive glass of blood to his lips. "_All_ of them," he insisted.

_8:17 p.m. – Outside Shreveport Regional Airport in Louisiana_

Katherine Petrova stretched out indulgently like a cat across the seat of the largest stretch limo she had ever encountered in her over 500 years on Earth. Purring contentedly, Katherine kicked off her stiletto heels, as she ran her fingers across the luxurious black leather seats. To her left was a small mini-fridge, which she was pleased to find, contained within it a fully stocked bar. "Jackpot," she exclaimed gleefully, as she extracted a bottle of Gran Patron tequila from the fridge, untwisted the cap, and proceeded to down the contents of the bottle, as though it was going out of style.

From her purse, she removed a small silver cell phone, selected a number from her contact list, and patiently waited for the answering machine to pick up. The person she was calling never deigned to answer her own phone. Such were the "perks" of royalty, Katherine suspected.

"My dearest, Sophie Anne," she cooed into the phone. "Thank you so much for sending your personal limo to retrieve me from the airport. You do know how I love to travel in style. And I get to do it so rarely, in this infernal century. Your driver just informed me I should be arriving at your mansion in a few short minutes . . . your _Queen's_ mansion. I can't believe you've gone and become a Queen on me. How droll!"

"I look forward to tearing up the town with you, during the next few days," she continued. "I just really needed to get away. I'm afraid I've gotten myself into trouble again, with some rather unsavory characters. I know . . . what else is new, right? But the _good news_ is that the people who are after me are over a thousand miles away. And they'll _never_ find me _here_ . . ."

_8:33 p.m. – Fangtasia Bar and Nightclub_

By the time the pair had reached Fangtasia, Damon was already on his way toward sobriety. And though Elena seemed eager to get right down to the business of finding Stefan, the elder Salvatore brother insisted on "just one dance." Elena rolled her eyes in protest, but ultimately took Damon's hand, and allowed him to drag her onto the dance floor.

While en route to the center of the nightclub, Elena noticed that someone had handed Damon what appeared to be an already-opened bottle of beer. She quickly snatched it from his hand. "I'll take that!" She exclaimed, surprising Damon, by tilting her head back and chugging down the entire contents of the bottle. _One beer won't hurt, right? _Elena thought to herself. _I am on vacation, after all._

But when the taste of the drink hit Elena's mouth, she coughed violently, spitting red liquid all over the floor. "Ugh!" Elena exclaimed. "What kind of beer is THIS? It's awful!"

Damon laughed, and took the bottle from her hand. He then turned it around, so that she could see the label, which read _Tru Blood._ "I hate to break it to you . . . but that is _most definitely_ not beer." He offered smugly.

"What is it . . . some kind of hard liquor, or something?" She asked.

"Nope . . . its synthetic blood . . . made specifically for vampires trying to quit cold turkey. I, myself, prefer the _real deal_."

Elena gagged. "I just drank _synthetic blood_ from a _bottle_ . . . And I thought _our town_ was weird," she noted.

"We Radiate" by Goldfrapp began blasting from the speakers of the nightclub. "I love this song," said Elena, as she began to un-self-consciously move her body to the music.

Damon moved toward Elena, placing his hands on either side of her hips, and pulling her in close, so that their stomachs were touching. They began to sway effortlessly in time with the song, grooving, grinding, and thrusting their bodies to its infectious beat. Their muscular forms fit into one another perfectly, like two puzzle pieces snapped together. Elena closed her eyes blissfully, as the music began to take her away to a simpler time and place . . . back when she was just a carefree high school student . . . back when her parents were both still alive . . . back before she met _Stefan_."

A strand of hair got in Elena's eyes as the pair danced, and Damon gently brushed it away with his finger tips, causing Elena to open her eyes. When she did so, she found Damon staring at her, his hypnotic eyes were intense, filled, as they were, with longing . . . hoping . . . and _wanting_. She wondered briefly, whether her eyes looked the same way. The thought frightened her. So, she quickly broke the gaze, focusing instead on Damon's neck, which only served to make her even more hot and bothered.

Small droplets of sweat began to form on Elena's forehead, chest, and stomach, causing her shirt to cling the curves of her body. But that wasn't the worst of it. Elena began to feel a certain familiar wetness forming between her legs, followed by a feeling of pleasurable warmth that radiated from her groin, down her legs, and across her midsection. _This has got to stop._ Elena thought to herself. _I need to get a hold of myself, before I do something I'll regret._

"I'm thirsty. I'm going to get something to drink," Elena said in Damon's ear, as she quickly disentangled herself from him, and headed toward the bar.

In front of Elena in line was a man with light brown hair, and chiseled features. His back was to her, but she recognized him almost immediately. "Stefan?" She called out.


	5. Chapter 5  Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

**Author's Note: This chapter is inspired by Cage the Elephant's "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked," which appeared in the Season 1 episode of The Vampire Diaries entitled "Isobel." You know what that means! Things are about to get DARK . . .**

_8:23 – Fangtasia Bar and Nightclub_

Stefan recognized the voice instantly. As far from home as he was, there was a part of him that always knew she would come . . . even _hoped_ she would come. But hoping and wishing, didn't change _anything_. He and Elena were OVER. They _had_ to be . . . for HER sake. Stefan couldn't let his emotions dictate his actions . . . not _this time_ . . . perhaps, not ever again.

He stood perfectly still for a few seconds . . . thinking . . . calculating. He contemplated not turning around at all. He could simply pretend he hadn't heard her . . . walk right out of the bar, and never come back. It would be a cowardly thing to do, for sure. And yet wasn't that what he had become: a _coward_ . . . an obedient dog to a monster he despised . . . a _monster_ who deprived him of everything he had ever _loved_, so that all that was left was_ death_ and BLOOD?

BLOOD. He craved it all the time now, from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning, to the second he crawled into bed at dawn, with the taste of his latest kill still on his lips. It was all he thought about most days . . . all he _dreamed_ about. The sweet pulsating elixir of life intermingled with cold hard evidence of death. _A true ripper enjoys the hunt_, Klaus had told him on that fateful night. But it had never been about "the hunt" for Stefan. "The hunt" was just foreplay . . . perfunctory, routine, unsatisfactory foreplay. The BLOOD was the sex. In fact, it was _better_ than sex.

But Stefan wasn't thinking about blood now. He was thinking about _Elena_ . . . and her eyes . . . Such power they had over him. He could feel them now, boring into the back of his skull, imploring him to be the man she THOUGHT he was . . . the man she loved . . . or, at least _thought_ she did. That man was gone now . . . assuming he had ever existed, in the first place. So, Stefan had to be _strong_, even if being "strong" meant killing the last shred of humanity in his soul . . . even if it meant never looking into those breathtakingly beautiful eyes ever again.

"Elena," Stefan said emotionlessly, keeping his back turned, and his eyes trained on the bar. "You shouldn't have come."

Elena sidled up next to him. Their shoulders were touching. He thought about moving away. But he didn't. He _couldn't_ . . . not yet.

"How could I _not_ come for you?" She inquired. "How could I possibly stay in Mystic Falls . . . in your house . . . in your _bed_ . . . without _you_ lying next to me?"

Stefan shook his head. "Things have changed, Elena. _I've_ changed. You have to leave. Tell Damon to take you home."

"I'm not going _anywhere_, Stefan. You can't MAKE me do anything I don't want to do. And neither can Damon. I'm here, because I want to be here. And I'm not leaving without you," Elena insisted, grabbing hold of Stefan's wrist insistently.

Stefan yanked his arm away violently, startling Elena. "Don't you GET IT? I don't WANT to go with you! I've got a _new_ life now, one that doesn't involve drinking bunnies and blood bags . . . pretending to be something I'm not. I'm a MONSTER, Elena. Can't you see that?"

"No . . . Stefan . . . you're _not_," Elena insisted, placing her hand on his shoulder. "A monster doesn't put his life on the line to protect his girlfriend and her friends. A monster doesn't make a deal with the Devil to save his brother. Don't let Klaus WIN, Stefan! We can beat him TOGETHER. As long as we have one another, we can accomplish anything. _You_ taught me that."

"Elena . . ." Stefan closed his eyes. "You don't understand. I . . . I don't . . . love you anymore."

Tears welled up in Elena's eyes, but she managed to force them back. _This is just the blood talking. _Elena told herself. _This is just Klaus talking._ "You don't mean that," she whispered, so softly that Stefan could barely hear her over the noise of the bar.

"Yes . . . I do," he replied morosely.

"Then, look me in the eye and say it."

Stefan stayed where he was.

"LOOK AT ME, STEFAN," Elena exclaimed, cupping his chin in her hands, and turning his head toward her.

Though Klaus was seated at a table on the complete opposite side of the bar, he could still hear everything Stefan and Elena were saying to one another. _That Doppelganger is becoming quite the little annoyance. _He thought to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Klaus noticed two human women whispering about him in the corner and giggling. They were both blonde, in their early twenties, and extremely attractive. They were exactly what Klaus needed.

With his pointer finger, he motioned the two girls toward his table, flashing them one of his trademark smiles. They whispered to one another a bit longer, as if trying to come up with a game plan. Moments later, they were at his side. "What are your names, my lovelies?" Klaus inquired.

"I'm Trina, and this Ashley," remarked the more attractive, and therefore, bolder, blonde.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Trina and Ashley. My name is Klaus," replied the Original vampire, rising from his chair to bow for both ladies, and offering them each a kiss on the hand. "I was wondering if you would both like to play a little game with me."

"What kind of game?" Ashley inquired.

"See that guy over there?" Klaus asked, pointing toward Stefan.

"The one fighting with the brunette?" Trina asked. "He's _cute_ . . . but not as cute as _you_, of course," she concluded, with a wink.

"Look at me," commanded Klaus, as both girls turned their heads in unison.

"I want you both to try and seduce that man, and don't stop, until you've separated him from that girl," he instructed, his eyes glowing green, as he spoke.

Klaus watched with glee, as his compulsion worked its magic on the two young women. Within seconds, the flirtatious looks in the girls' eyes vanished, and dreamy and vacant expressions took their place.

"Why would he leave his girlfriend for two women he's never met?" Ashley inquired sleepily.

"Because _you_ have something he wants," answered Klaus.

"What's that?" Trina asked.

"Lean closer and I'll show you."

As both girls leaned in toward Klaus, he proceeded to take large bites out of both of their necks. By the time Ashley and Trina dazedly made their way across the bar toward Stefan, both were sporting large grotesque-looking gashes near their carotid arteries. From those gashes, long warm trails of blood, dripped down their necks, forming pools of red, along their tight fitting halter tops.

The intoxicating stench of blood reached Stefan's nose, long before the girls did. He gripped the bar tightly, as his eyes turned jet black, and the veins began to pop on his forehead. Instinctively, Stefan licked his lips, as he felt his fangs poke out from the corners of his mouth. "ELENA, GO AWAY!" Stefan growled.

"NO!" Elena exclaimed, still not sure what was happening. "Not until you look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me anymore."

"He doesn't love you, anymore. He loves _me. _That's why he gave me _this,_" remarked Ashley, pointing proudly at her wound, as she wrapped her arm around Stefan's and amorously nibbled on his neck.

"No, he loves ME. That's why he gave ME this," echoed Trina, kissing Stefan on the cheek and resting her bloody neck on his shoulder.

Stefan closed his eyes and winced, as if in pain. But he made no move to extricate himself from the two bloody-necked women. _Good ole, Klaus, exposing me for who I really am . . . doing for me what I lack the courage to do for myself. _He thought bleakly.

Elena took a step back, horrified. Stefan could never have done this to these sleazy women. It must have been Klaus. But _where was_ he? Elena glanced quickly around the bar, but the blonde vampire was nowhere to be found. "Stefan . . . tell these girls to . . ." She began.

"Hey, Elena, where did you . . . _well, well, well_ . . . If it isn't my brother, the Vampire Gigolo? Long time, no see," Damon remarked, as he instinctively moved forward to shield Elena from the threat to her that his younger sibling had obviously become.

"Damon, get_ her_ out of _here_," Stefan implored.

Every cell of Stefan's body was now bursting with a need for blood. The scent of it was so thick in his nostrils, he could almost taste it.

"Drop the bloody hypnotized harpies, Stefan. We can help you through this," Damon replied, taking a step toward his brother.

Elena was shaking now, tears running freely from her face. "Say it, Stefan," she said softly, regaining the thread of their earlier conversation. "Look me in the eye, and tell me you don't love me anymore."

Stefan snarled at Elena, his black eyes finally managing to meet hers. "I DON'T LOVE YOU, ANYMORE, ELENA. Why would I POSSIBLY go back to that tragic little town with YOU, when I could have the entire world at my fingertips?" He concluded, gesturing around the bar wildly with his hands.

Damon hugged Elena protectively, pulling her body into his own, as she cried into his chest. "Come on, Elena," he whispered in her ear, "Stefan's not himself. We'll come back and see him tomorrow . . . when he's more . . . _sober."_

But Elena broke free from Damon's grasp. Impulsively, she propelled herself toward Stefan, kissing him on the mouth, as the two blonde women tightened their grip on him, still holding their ground.

The smell of Elena's blood, intertwined with those of the two women, sapped the last ounce of restraint Stefan had. Violently, he pushed Elena out of the way, causing her to stumble and land on the floor. Fangs extended, he bit into Trina, draining the girl completely of life, within seconds. As she fell to the floor, cell phone cameras went off around the bar, its tourist patrons immediately assuming this was just another part of Fangtasia's nightly entertainment.

From her position by the door, Vampire Pam quietly motioned for the bartender to retrieve the dead body. He did so quickly, and without hesitation, such that Trina appeared to have vanished into thin air. "Ooh . . . that looked like fun," cooed Ashley into Stefan's ear. "Can I be next?"

"Yes," insisted Stefan with a scowl. "You certainly can be."

Then, with one last longing look in Elena's direction, Stefan wrapped his arm possessively around Ashley's slim waist, and led her out of Fangtasia.

Damon dashed toward Elena, lowering himself to the floor, so that he was at eye level with her. "OK, Elena," he said, quickly examining her body for external injuries and, to his great relief, finding none. "Let's get you home."

"Damon," Elena said stoically, her eyes looking unfocused, as they stared off into the distance. "Buy me a bottle of tequila, please."

Damon shook his head, placing his hands gently on both of Elena's shoulders. "No way," he began. "I don't think so. Take it from someone who _knows_, drinking tequila on an empty stomach and a broken heart, is NO way to end an evening."

"Damon . . ." Elena continued, an edge creeping into her voice. "Tequila . . . _NOW_!"

"Yes,_ sir_," replied Damon comically, as he helped Elena up, and reluctantly headed for the bar.

He had a feeling this was going to be one LONG night . . .


	6. Chapter 6  Bloodstream

**Author's Note: This chapter was inspired by the song "Bloodstream," by Stateless. If you recall, this was the song playing during the "Founder's Day" episode, when Damon first kissed the woman he THOUGHT was Elena, only to learn later, that it was actually KATHERINE with whom he had shared that pivotal lip lock. As you might have guessed, this chapter will feature plenty of parallels, between both Elena and Katherine, and the two brothers they both love.**

_8:49 Fangtasia Bar and Nightclub_

Elena Gilbert may have just consumed nearly half a bottle of Jose Cuervo all by herself, but _Damon_ was the one feeling intoxicated. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She was dancing alone in the corner, un-self-consciously, with a bottle in one hand, and the other stretched high over her head. Her eyes were closed, as her perfect pink lips mouthed the words to the song that was blasting from the speakers in the bar.

Elena swayed her hips rhythmically in perfect time with the music. Her head shook from side to side, as she moved. This caused her long dark hair to swish back and forth wildly, across her cheeks, which had taken on a rose hue, from the unique mixture of liquor and exertion.

Damon stared at her, entranced. Never, in all his time on Earth, had he ever remembered seeing something _so beautiful_. In this carefree moment, she reminded Damon of Katherine . . . self-assured, seductive, sexy, and _dangerous_. And yet, Elena was somehow more entrancing than Katherine . . . her innocence, her goodness, her _humanity . . ._ it emanated from every pore of her trim, thinly muscled, frame.

The vampire's mouth watered. He couldn't remember ever being so _hungry_ for a human being, in a way that did not involve draining her of all of her blood. More than anything, Damon wanted to place his fingers on Elena's soft cheeks, feel her warm mouth on his, slide his hands from the back of her slim neck to the gentle curve of her backside. In his mind, he could picture himself lifting her naked body in his arms, pulled her toward him, and making her his very own.

On the bar in front of Damon was yet another glass of bourbon. And yet, it remained miraculously untouched. Damon told himself that he simply wasn't thirsty anymore. But he knew that was untrue.

The elder Salvatore Brother had already been drunk once tonight. But now, he was staying sober, and he was doing it for _Elena_. Though he hated to admit it, because the thought frightened him to his very core, the job of caring for Elena had now been left _solely_ to Damon. There was no Stefan around to guard Elena's drink from roofies . . . to ward off any creeps who tried to dance too close . . . to pull the bottle of tequila away from her at the first sign of alcohol poisoning . . . to hold her hair back, if she puked.

Sure, Damon had _always_ protected Elena, in his own way. He kept her safe, usually by MURDERING anyone who threatened her with harm. He did it gladly. But _this_? This was clearly _Stefan's_ territory.

Damon wondered when it happened that he had become the guy who took drinks AWAY from beautiful women, like Elena? In the past, he was much more likely to be the one to get them drunk, and take advantage of them.

And even if he WANTED to take Elena's bottle from her, could he really do it? Should he? Hadn't Elena EARNED a night of inebriation, after all she'd been through? If ELENA had done to DAMON what _Stefan_ had just done to _Elena_, wouldn't HE TOO want nothing more than to drown his sorrows in a bottle of strong liquor? Hadn't Damon spent most of his existence coping with his problems precisely the way Elena was coping with them right now?

And yet, there was something about Elena that made Damon _want_ to take care of her . . . not just to keep her safe . . . but to keep her healthy, happy, and, perhaps, most importantly, _human. _These strange thoughts and feelings were new to Damon. And he was still trying to understand what it all meant. But there would be plenty of time to navel gaze, later. For now, he had a drunken girl on his hands, who was desperately in need of his services.

Forgetting completely about the full glass of bourbon on the bar, Damon rose from his stool and moved toward Elena . . . his strong arms ready, and waiting, to catch her, if she fell. After all, intoxication, like love, doesn't come with a safety net. By the time you realize you've fallen, you are already in too deep . . .

_8:55 p.m. Fangtasia Parking Lot_

Katherine Petrova peered out the tinted windows of Queen Sophie Anne's stretch limousine, as it pulled into the parking lot of Fangtasia. She smiled mischievously, as she watched a group of scantily clad women and their muscular male companions, cross under the gaudy neon red sign to enter the bar. Now THIS was where she was meant to be! The air around her felt thick with anticipation and excitement. On the radio, the Black Eyed Peas were singing, "I've got a feeling, that tonight's gonna be a good night." And Katherine agreed wholeheartedly.

"You are just going to adore this place, Kat, darling. It may not look like much from the outside. But, I assure you, it is EVERYTHING a vampire bar should be and much more," remarked Sophie Anne, as she removed a compact from her purse to touch up her lipstick.

Katherine raised her martini glass in a mock toast. "Whatever it is, it HAS to be better than the Only Bar / Social Establishment in Mystic Falls. I've been to funerals that were livelier than that place."

Sophie Anne shook her head sympathetically. "That town sounds dreadful! I honestly don't know how you stayed there for so long. You must have been going out of your mind with boredom."

Katherine stared off into the distance, a faraway look in her eyes, "Not as much as you would think," she replied thoughtfully.

"So, are you ready to tear up this club?" Sophie Anne inquired, shaking Katherine out of her reverie.

"Abso-f*%king-lutely," replied Katherine, as slipped on her stilettos, and prepared to exit the limo.

"Oooh, wait . . . who is THAT? That vampire is definitely NOT from around here," cooed Sophie approvingly.

"What vampire?" Katherine asked absentmindedly, while she rummaged through her purse for her cell phone.

"The one trying to bury his dead dessert in the bushes," answered Sophie, licking her lips. "Change of plans, sweetheart. We're picking up a boy, and taking _this party_ back home."

Katherine sighed. She had REALLY been looking forward to going clubbing tonight. And yet, Sophie Anne had always been somewhat of a flake. So, her abrupt about-face, while disappointing, was not exactly surprising. "Now, let me get this straight, the Future Love of Your Life eats women in the parking lots of seedy bars, and buries their bodies in the bushes? How charming! You know, for a Queen, you sure do have AWFUL taste in men," Katherine quipped.

"Trust me, if you SAW this guy, you wouldn't be arguing with me right now. Stay in the car, I'll be right back," remarked the Queen, as she climbed over Katherine and hopped out of the limo.

Though her view had been obstructed earlier, with the limo door open, Katherine was now able to get a closer look at Queen Sophie Anne's latest "find." The Queen was right. He wasn't at all what or _who_ Katherine was expecting. Upon seeing the vampire, Katherine gasped, and felt her throat close up. "Sophie, wait! COME BACK! PLEASE! I _can't_ . . ." She yelled after her friend.

But it was too late. Queen Sophie was already about half a mile away, and deep in conversation with one, Stefan Salvatore.

_9:02 p.m. – Fangtasia Bar and Nightclub_

"Dance with me, Damon," whispered Elena, as she moved toward him, her face flushed with excitement.

He smiled broadly, extending his hand to her. Elena took it gratefully, raising it high above her head, as she orbited around Damon, in time with the music. She then spun herself toward him so fast that she nearly fell to the ground, causing him to have to pull her close to his body to keep her upright. Elena laughed hysterically when this happened, her face buried deep into his chest. The vibrations of her laughter sent shivers across Damon's entire body, and he realized, to his chagrin, that he had just become extremely hard.

"Want a drink?" Elena slurred, looking up at him with those almond-shaped brown eyes of hers, in a way that managed to be both childlike and X-rated at the same time.

Damon nodded, but when he tried to get the bottle from Elena, she danced away from him, and stuck her tongue out petulantly. "Come and get it," she teased.

Elena was quick, but she was also drunk, and certainly no match for vampire speed. Within seconds, Damon had managed to wrench the bottle out of Elena's arms. Gripping her body close to his, he moved toward the nearest table, and returned the bottle to the bartender, motioning for him to take it away. Elena pouted, "Party pooper!" She exclaimed, leaning over to bite Damon's hand.

The move caught Damon by surprise, and he instinctively released Elena from his grasp. "Did you actually just _bite me_, Elena Gilbert? You're in the clutches of an evil vampire, and THAT'S your defense, to BITE him?" He scolded jokingly.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Elena inquired giddily, playfully punching him in the arm. "Besides," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, as a slow song began to play, "You aren't nearly as evil, as you want everyone to think you are."

Damon smiled ruefully, and placed his hands on Elena's waist. _Yep, she's definitely wasted._ He thought to himself. Elena was absolutely going to be a handful tonight. Damon briefly wished his little brother was there to witness this. And yet, at the same time, he was really glad that he _wasn't_. _How would Damon even begin to explain what was happening now?_

"No . . . I'm definitely evil," he answered, as the pair swayed back and forth in time with the music.

Damon closed his eyes, breathing in Elena's scent, and stifling a groan, as the curves of her body, seemed to melt into his own. Never had he felt as incredibly happy, or as incredibly guilty, as he did in this very moment. Was it _wrong_ to want Elena so badly right now . . . to _hold her_ . . . to caress her skin . . . to run his fingers through her hair . . . while his own brother was off on a collision course with destruction . . . the same brother who had given up everything to save _Damon's_ life? _Yes, _he thought. It _was_ wrong, and yet the elder Salvatore Brother felt powerless to stop it.

All this time, Damon had felt free to lust after, and love, Elena from afar, knowing that her brother's loyal girlfriend would always have the good sense to fend off his advances. But now, here she was in his arms, drunk, vulnerable, and undoubtedly feeling alone in the world, as Damon, himself, so often did. If she offered herself to him now, would Damon be able to say no? And even if he could, would he really _want to_?

As if in answer to his question, Elena slid her arms down Damon's neck, placing her hands on either side of his face. Suddenly her lips were on his ear, "Take me back to the hotel, Damon," she whispered.

_9:10 p.m. – Fangtasia Parking Lot_

Queen Sophie Anne watched for a few moments with amusement, as Stefan furiously stabbed at the ground with a stick, in a futile effort to make a shallow grave for Ashley. Finally, she spoke, "You know, there are much easier ways to dispose of bodies around here. There's an incinerator behind the bar. I can show you, if you'd like."

Stefan looked up, startled and defensive, his fangs bared, ready for a fight. Look at me? _I'm trying to bury a dead body in plain sight. I'm pathetic, not to mention incredibly stupid. They are going to throw me in jail, for sure. _He thought to himself. Then he remembered he was in Vampire Country, and figured that these sort of things probably happened all the time, without incident. He relaxed a bit, and retracted his fangs. "It wasn't me. She was dead, when I got here," he mumbled unconvincingly.

Queen Sophie Anne laughed. "I'm sure she was," she snarked, extending her hand for Stefan to shake. "My name is Sophie Anne," she added, deciding, on instinct, to leave off the Queen Moniker, for now. (No use getting her future sex partner all riled up and nervous, for no reason.)

"I'm Damon," Stefan fibbed, tentatively taking the petite red-headed vampire's hand in his own.

"Come . . . I'll show you where the incinerator is," Sophie offered, hoisting up Ashley's corpse easily, as she walked behind the bar.

Stefan hesitated for a moment, and then followed. Within moments, the two vampires were standing before the incinerator, and Poor Ashley was just a distant _ashy_ memory. "Well . . . thanks for your help, Sophie Anne . . . but . . . uh . . . I should really be going," he mumbled, turning to leave.

Queen Sophie Anne rushed out to block his path, grabbing Stefan's wrists so tightly they throbbed in pain. He could tell instantly, that this vampire was MUCH older than him, and significantly stronger. If they were to fight one another, he would probably lose. "Not so fast, _Damon_," the Queen cautioned, "I've just done you a favor. Now, it's your turn to do me one."

Stefan growled. _Never look a gift vampire in the fangs. He should have known better._ "What's the favor?" He asked reluctantly.

"I have an old friend in town, who is going through some tough times. She's feeling vulnerable, and hasn't exactly been acting like herself, lately," began Sophie Anne.

"I know the feeling," Stefan muttered under his breath.

"Basically, I would like you to come back to my house, and give her the best night of her life," Sophie Anne concluded. "I'll even pay you."

Stefan turned on his heel angrily, "Sorry, but I'm not a prostitute."

"OK . . . so I _won't_ pay you. Trust me, once you see her, you'll be happy I offered. My friend is very beautiful. And, I can tell you from personal experience, she's a _fantastic _lover," the Queen added with a wink.

"I have a girlfriend," Stefan replied, knowing full well that wasn't true anymore (_Or was it?)_

"Oh . . . _really_ . . . the one we just tossed into the Body Burner, back there?" Sophie Anne retorted, keeping stride with Stefan, as he tried in vain to escape.

Stefan cringed. Of course, the woman he had eaten was NOT his girlfriend. But she could have been. If Stefan was so quick to kill two human females, without feeling an ounce of remorse for either of the lives he had snuffed out before their time, then, who was to say, he WOULDN'T snap, and do the same thing to _Elena_? Elena Gilbert may have been his girlfriend before, but he CERTAINLY had no claim to her, anymore . . .

The Queen regarded Stefan from the corner of her eye as they walked. She knew a blood junkie when she saw one. The signs were all there: the crazed look in his eyes, his sweaty palms, how his body twitched when he moved, his clipped, impatient, manner of speaking, the way he had drained every OUNCE of blood out of his victim's body, so that not a single drop remained. Suddenly, Sophie Anne knew exactly what to do.

"In case you haven't noticed, _Damon_, I'm a very powerful person."

"Congratulations," mumbled Stefan in frustration. _Why can't she leave me alone? Doesn't she know that I'm toxic?_

Ignoring her new companion's snide remark, Sophie continued. "You know how humans can get pizza delivered at any time of night? Well, I get the same thing . . . only my deliveries are HUMAN. Any size, any age, either sex, any _blood type_, I could have what I want to drink, in five minutes flat. All I have to do is make a call. In fact, just this morning, I ordered an entire busload of B Positives, in honor of my friend's arrival. They are waiting in my basement to be consumed, as we speak . . ."

_9:23 p.m. – Fangtasia Parking Lot_

With every second that passed without Queen Sophie Anne returning to the car, Katherine only became more nervous. If she had anywhere else to go, she would compel the limo driver to take her to the airport, right now. But Katherine had NOWHERE to go, and nowhere else to run. Hadn't this latest "vacation" proved just that? If Stefan was in Louisiana, then _Klaus_ couldn't be far behind. And if Klaus found Katherine NOW, there was no telling what he would do with her.

Katherine popped the cork on an expensive bottle of Merlot, and chugged the entire bottle down in a single gulp. But it did nothing to calm her fears. She consoled herself with the possibility that Stefan might never find out that she was in town. After all, the Stefan SHE KNEW would never submit to Queen Sophie Anne's advances, not when he had _Saint Elena_ to pine over.

Suddenly, the door to the limo opened, and Queen Sophie Anne climbed inside. "Katherine, darling, I'm so sorry that I kept you waiting so long. Please allow me to introduce you to my new best friend, _Damon."_

Katherine gasped, as Sophie Anne's "companion" crawled into the car, looking hungrier, more menacing, and, admittedly, sexier, than she had ever seen him look before.

"Katherine Petrova," said Stefan Salvatore, as he looked the former love of his life directly in the eye. "We meet again."


	7. Chapter 7  Get Some

**Author's Note: The title of this chapter is inspired by the song "Get Some" by Lykka Li. "Get Some" was featured in Episode 2.19 of The Vampire Diaries, "Klaus." If you recall, Katherine danced to this particular song, while cooped up in Alaric's apartment. The scene remains one of my favorite Vampire Katherine moments to date, hence its inclusion in this story. As you may have guessed from the title, this chapter will likely push the limits of this story's "T" rating. Be on the lookout for some heavy petting, as well as a bit of (unintentional) drug use. Viewer discretion is advised.**

_9:35 - Bon Temps Motor Lodge_

By the time Damon Salvatore pulled into the parking lot, Elena Gilbert was passed out cold in the passenger seat. She looked so peaceful this way, with her head tilted gently toward her right shoulder, and her mouth slightly open, as if anticipating the kiss Damon was dying to give her. Damon contemplated just letting her lay there for a while. He suspected he could watch Elena sleep for hours, without getting bored.

Yet, having been in such a heavy state of intoxicated sleep _himself _many times in the past, Damon knew that Elena was in for a rather rude awakening the following morning. And that awakening would be undoubtedly _ruder_, had he allowed her to remain resting in such an awkward seated position for any longer than she already had been. So, the elder Salvatore brother quietly turned off the car, exited the driver's seat, and walked around to the passenger side. Opening the door ever so slightly, Damon gently patted Elena's shoulder. "Pssst . . . Sleeping Beauty . . . we're here," he whispered, not wanting to startle her.

Elena opened her eyes ever so slightly, and turned sleepily toward her travel companion. "Damon," she said with a smile, as if the same face she'd been dreaming about had just come to life in front of her. After that, she closed her eyes again . . .

Sighing, Damon carefully undid the sleeping Elena's seatbelt. He then lifted her lithe body into his arms, allowing her head to rest contentedly on his chest. As Damon carried Elena across the parking lot, shifting her body ever so slightly, so that he could pull the hotel key from his pocket, and open the door, he experienced a powerful sense of déjà vu.

And why not? After all, it hadn't been so long ago, that Damon had carried a lifeless Elena home from The Sacrifice Ritual. The emotions he felt during that time instantly flooded his subconscious mind . . . his fear that Elena would die . . . or _worse_, become a vampire, and hate him forever . . . his guilt over not having been able to stop what had happened to her . . . for not being able to soothe the pain of the loss she experienced upon Jenna's death. Elena was still very young, and yet, an old soul, in so many ways. Damon was thinking THIS thought, as he carried Elena across the threshold into the dingy motel room.

"Well . . . this isn't exactly the location I imagined for our honeymoon, but I guess it will have to do," Damon joked to nobody in particular.

Ever so carefully, Damon placed Elena down on the stark white bed sheets, which reminded him a bit of the ones he had at home (only THESE had a significantly lower thread count, he suspected). He then turned her body on its side, placing a pillow behind her back, just in case all of that top shelf tequila she had recently consumed decided to make an unexpected re-appearance. A strand of dark hair had fallen across Elena's face, during her journey from the car to the bed. So, Damon sat down next to her, and brushed it free from her eyes. Mesmerized by her beauty and innocence, Damon remained there for a few moments longer, his deft fingers dancing across the gentle curves of her face.

_I need a shower . . . a cold one._ Damon thought to himself, as his masculinity made itself known to him, through a throbbing pain between his legs. Groaning, Damon removed his shirt, and haphazardly tossed it to the floor. He was about to leave the bed, when he felt a soft hand take firm hold of his upper thigh. "Damon, I can't lose you," Elena whispered, her eyes still closed. "I've already lost Stefan. And I can't lose you too."

Damon smiled, placing his large hand over her smaller one. "Gilbert, you couldn't lose me, if you tried," he reassured her, with a wink she couldn't see.

He then patted her hand, and gently moved it back to its former position. But when Damon began to rise again, Elena stopped him, this time, by placing her hand on his chest. Her fingers splayed outward across his skin, causing intensely pleasurable warmth to radiate throughout Damon's body. "Don't go," pleaded Elena, as she rose to a sitting position.

Before Damon could protest, Elena was in his arms, her soft lips pressed firmly against his . . .

_9:43 p.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's Limousine_

Katherine Petrova regarded Stefan Salvatore out of the corner of her eye, trying to judge his expression. A mixture of fear and lust sent tingles throughout her body. The sensation was not entirely an unpleasant one.

Having realized that her two companions were already well-acquainted, Queen Sophie Anne had excused herself, and moved to sit next to her driver. Upon doing so, she was careful to raise the barrier between the front seat and the back, so that Katherine and Stefan could have their privacy.

Under the circumstances, Katherine wasn't quite sure she _wanted_ to be left alone with Stefan . . . especially THIS Stefan, who, she knew, was a bit of a loose cannon, to say the least. There was no telling what he would do to her, if given the chance. Yet, the terror Katherine was experiencing had nothing to do with _Stefan_. She had MUCH bigger demons to battle than him, and she knew it.

"If you are planning to tell him that I'm here, I only ask that you have the decency to at least give me a running start," remarked Katherine, turning so that Stefan's cold dark eyes met hers directly. (No further explanation was necessary as to the "_him"_ to whom she was referring. Both parties knew exactly who she was talking about.) "Because, as much as you hate to admit it, Stefan, you loved me once . . . And I would hope that somewhere in that dark bloodaholic heart of yours, that still counts for something."

Stefan said nothing. Instead, he turned away from Katherine to remove the cell phone from his pocket. Katherine's eyes widened, as he dialed.

A deafening silence filled the limousine, as Stefan waited for Klaus to answer his phone. The answering machine picked up. "I got hungry . . . and decided to hunt," began Stefan, not bothering to leave his name. "Don't wait up. I'll meet you back at Eric's in the morning," the younger Salvatore Brother added, hanging up the phone, and returning it to his pocket.

Katherine breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said, suddenly finding herself unable to look at him.

"I didn't do it for you," Stefan said coldly, turning his attention back to the window.

Katherine nodded, as she opened the mini fridge and extracted a bottle of scotch, which had always been Stefan's favorite. She grabbed a tumbler and filled it, pushing it in his direction . . . a peace offering. "Well . . . thanks anyway," she said.

Stefan surprised her by ignoring the tumbler. Instead, he reached for the entire bottle. He then took a long and intense pull from it, before passing the bottle back to Katherine.

Katherine took a sip from the bottle as well. _Now, we are getting somewhere._ She thought to herself with a smirk. "You know . . . there's no rule that says you have to spend the rest of eternity as Klaus' bitch," she offered helpfully. "You already got what you wanted. Damon's not _dying_ anymore. Elena's safe . . . and _human._ I hope you're not sticking around out of some warped sense of honor," she concluded, passing the Scotch back to Stefan.

He looked thoughtfully at the bottle, drinking even deeper this time. "It's not about _honor_," he answered. "I can't be with her now . . . not when I'm like _this_. I just . . . I can't put her life in jeopardy like that. I _won't."_

Katherine grabbed the bottle from Stefan, and tilted her head back. The liquor burned the lining of her stomach as it went down. And it felt _good._ "I didn't _say_ you should go back to _her. _Not everything has to be black and white, Stefan. You are a strong, dangerous . . . not to mention, extremely _sexy,_ vampire. There are countless places you could go. The World is your Blood Bag."

"And then what? Spend the next half millennium running scared . . . like YOU?"He inquired bitterly.

Stefan reached for the bottle again. When he did, his hands brushed against Katherine's. The action caused a powerful feeling of arousal to move throughout his body. There was a brief time, back when he first got involved with Klaus, that Stefan worried he would never feel that sensation again toward anybody. And yet, there it was, tugging at his pant leg insistently, like a petulant child . . . for _her._ Stefan felt a luxurious cloudiness slowly taking over his brain, as he took yet another drink from the now nearly empty bottle of scotch.

It was Katherine who got the honor of finishing the bottle, tossing it triumphantly into the waste basket near her feet. She stretched seductively, using her body to its best advantage – a not-so-subtle reminder to Stefan of what he had been missing all these years.

"It's better than what you are doing _now_," she argued trying in vain to bring her vision back into focus. _Wow, I'm really drunk._ She thought to herself.

"Not from where I'm sitting," replied Stefan gruffly.

Katherine was briefly startled by a rapping on the window near her head. She hadn't even realized the limo had stopped moving. "I hope you are decent, lovebirds, because we have arrived. It's time for this party to _really_ begin," cooed Sophie Anne, as the limo driver opened the door for Katherine and Stefan.

"Oh, I think it's _already_ begun," said Katherine with a wink.

_9:50 p.m. – Bon Temps Motor Lodge_

Elena dug her nails into Damon's back, as she hungrily probed his mouth with her tongue. Meanwhile, Damon hands were deftly removing Elena's shirt. He pulled it over her head, in a single yank.

No longer encumbered by that pesky fabric, Damon began the fun task of exploring every part of Elena's perfectly sculpted body . . . the gentle curve of her neck . . . the hollow of her chest . . . the lithe musculature of her arms . . . the deep valley of cleavage between the soft pink mountains that were her breasts, the ripple of her abdominal muscles . . . the delicate folds of her belly button. He conquered them all with expert fingers, and then again, with his greedy mouth . . . savoring each moan of pleasure that emanated from her throat, and each shudder of her shoulders. Damon took immense joy in every sound Elena made, and every slight movement that possessed her. He felt as though he was a starving man, and THESE comprised his first meal in _days_.

A loud growl crawled from Damon's chest to his lips, causing his entire body to shake with the sound of it, as Elena tilted her head back and sighed, her eyes rolling back in her head. Impatiently, she began to fumble with his jeans, and him with hers . . . It was at that point, while the two of them were grappling with one another's inconvenient buttons and zippers, that Damon saw him . . . _Stefan_ . . . or, rather, Stefan's _head_, floating above the hotel room, like some bizarre approximation of the Man in the Moon.

Damon blinked, not quite sure what to make of this bizarre, not to mention, highly inconvenient, hallucination. Stefan laughed maniacally. "You're pathetic, you know that?" The younger Salvatore scoffed, his eyes probing his brother's half naked form in disgust. "Is this what has become of the Great Damon Salvatore? Forced to take his brother's girlfriend thousands of miles away, and get her drunk and vulnerable, just so he could get laid? Oh, how the mighty hath fallen!"

Damon cringed, as he pulled Elena's pants down over her ass, allowing them to sit at the top of her thighs. "It's not like that," he said out loud.

"Not like what," Elena asked, her breathing quickened with the exertion of arousal, as she slipped her hands through Damon's now-open jeans.

Damon growled, becoming even more determined now. He wasn't going to let something as ridiculous as_ guilt _get in the way of him FINALLY doing something he had been waiting to do seemingly for his entire existence . . .

"You know . . . she's going to hate you for this, in the morning . . . once she sobers up, _that is_" Stefan piped in, his voice less menacing now, and more _pitying_. "And worse . . . she's going to hate _herself_," he concluded, before seemingly disappearing into thin air.

Well, that did it. Damon instinctively jerked back from Elena. His action had the unintended effect of causing her to assume the role of aggressor. Elena reached for Damon, pushing his body forcefully into a laying position, so that she was seated on top of him. Straddling him, she began to move in a rhythmic motion. In another minute, they would be entering the point of no return.

_What am I, nuts? Why on Earth would I possibly stop this from happening? _Damon thought to himself, as he felt the weight of Elena's body pulsating on top of his own.

Damon was the _bad brother!_ He wasn't the type of guy to put an end to something like _this . . . _something that felt _so good_ . . . _so right_ . . . out of some ridiculous sense of obligation, to the guy who, less than twenty minutes ago, said he wanted nothing to do with either of them?

But then, Damon looked up at Elena. He saw the resplendent smile on her face . . . the way her almond eye shined with excitement and passion. He saw her _innocence_ . . . her _goodness_. Instantly, he knew what he had to do. "We can't do this, Elena," he muttered, shaking his head ruefully. "Not_ now_ . . . not like _this."_

Elena pursed her lips, as she leaned toward Damon, and whispered in his ear. "We can . . . and we ARE."

"No," said Damon, cursing silently, as he sat up, and moved off the bed.

Elena's blinked, still not quite understanding what was happening. "But Damon . . ." she whispered. "I thought this was what you wanted."

"It IS . . . my GOD, of course it is," he explained, grabbing her shoulders protectively.

"But . . ." Elena interrupted, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Damon sighed. It wasn't too late. He could turn back. He could grab Elena in his arms, bring her back to that dingy bed, and spend the night having the best sex of his 160-plus year existence. All he had to do was keep his big fat mouth shut.

"Stefan," he said morosely. "You have to figure things out with _Stefan. _You'll never forgive yourself, if you don't."

Elena released herself from Damon's grasp. He was _right._ She must have been crazy to think that one drunken night of great sex in a cheap motel would solve things . . . that it would erase her _past_ , or change what had happened between her and Stefan.

Humiliated, Elena placed one hand on her heart and the other across her mouth. "Oh my god! I'm such a whore," she exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears

Damon opened his mouth in protest, suddenly convinced he had made a terrible mistake "No . . . Elena. You're not a whore. You are the most . . ."

But Elena was no longer in any position to listen to reason. Instead, she turned, and ran toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Damon followed her, knocking gently on the door. "GO AWAY!" Elena yelped.

Damon forcefully threw open the bathroom door. He wasn't about to let her hide from him. They were going to solve this "little problem," they were having, if they had to hash it out all night.

That's when he heard it . . . the sound that confirmed for Damon that he had done the right thing, by putting the brakes on his and Elena's brief, but extremely erotic, romantic interlude. It was the sound of Elena emptying the contents of her stomach into the small hotel toilet bowl.

Sighing, Damon kneeled down next to Elena. Quickly, he tied her hair in a knot behind her head, to keep it out of her face. Then, he silently, and methodically, began to rub her back.

It was in that awful, pain-filled, moment that Damon came to the startling realization that he would never ever again love another woman the way he loved Elena Gilbert . . .

_10:10 p.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's Mansion_

Stefan and Katherine were lazily lounging by Queen Sophie Anne's indoor pool, when their hostess emerged, in a silken kimono, with the "main course" trailing behind her. The woman in question was about eighteen years old, with red hair, green eyes, and blood red lipstick. Unlike most of the "blood donors" Stefan had encountered in the past, this person was clearly acting on her own accord. Her eyes were bright, intense, and decidedly free from compulsion.

"Allow me to introduce you to Marissa," announced Queen Sophie. "She leads an active lifestyle, is disease free, and has an extremely rare, not to mention, decadently delicious, AB negative blood type, which, as you may or may not know, is offered in less than one percent of the human population."

Stefan licked his lips in anticipation. He couldn't remember the last time he had tasted AB negative blood. And yet, hungry as he was there was always something disconcerting about draining a woman who was not under compulsion. She would experience every gnash of teeth and, every rip of her flesh. She would feel her pulse weaken, and listen to the slowed beating of her heart. This woman would know exactly when she was going to _die_.

Despite how hungry he was . . . despite all the women he had murdered, without remorse, or emotion . . . there was something about murdering the seemingly willing Marissa that gave him pause. "You won't kill me," Marissa offered, seeming to read his mind. "I'm what you call a professional fangbanger. I've replaced all my non-vital organs with blood. This puts me at about two pints more blood than your average human. So, there's plenty for everyone," she concluded proudly.

To prove herself, Marissa moved toward Stefan, immediately filling his nostrils with her delicious scent. When she was close enough to him to do so, she kissed him roughly on the mouth, and ran her hand across his stomach. No longer able to resist his vampire impulses, Stefan bit Marissa's lip hard, kissing her mouth, as her luxurious blood ran down her chin in thin rivulets.

She tasted like nothing he had ever experienced before. Stefan moaned, closing his eyes, as the blood ran down his throat. He then licked his lips, immediately wanting another taste.

By the time Stefan opened his eyes, Marissa was no longer kissing him. Instead, she was kissing _Katherine_, with the same delectable bloody mouth that Stefan had experienced moments earlier. But before Stefan could become too jealous, Marissa extended her hand toward the younger Salvatore brother, pulling him toward the pair.

Now Stefan was biting Marissa neck, and so was Katherine. The former lovers looked at one another, in the midst of their shared indulgence. Their eyes were filled with passion and desire. The euphoric mix of blood and liquor was clearly taking its toll on both of their bodies, and the effect was irresistible.

Stefan began working his way toward Marissa's chest, his hand groping Katherine as he moved. But, suddenly, he began to feel very strange. The world around him began to spin increasingly fast. Colors seemed more _vivid_ . . . lights seemed _brighter_ . . . every touch was amplified. Stefan moved his hand in front of his face, and was surprised to find it distorted, and bulbous. He looked at the ground below him, which appeared to be disappearing beneath him. He felt as though he was floating.

It was at that moment that Marissa collapsed on the ground, her eye fluttering, her entire body shaking. She seemed to be having some kind of seizure. "Sophie . . . what was in that blood?" Stefan growled.

Katherine, who was feeling more than a bit loopy herself, turned slowly toward her oldest friend, feeling equal parts betrayed and excited about the journey that lay ahead of her. "Oh, nothing too dangerous . . . just your basic Feel Good Drug Cocktail," replied Queen Sophie Anne, clearly proud of herself. "Like I always say, what doesn't kill you makes you better in bed."

Katherine instinctively placed her hand on her chest, and was surprised by how amazing it felt to be touched. She suddenly had the desire to touch everyone and _everything_. _Was this a side effect of the drugs? _Katherine didn't care.

This desire took over her body, shattering her ability to calculate, and think rationally. Then, with a fervor she didn't know was possible, Katherine launched herself at Stefan with vampire speed, ripping his shirt and pants open in one single, intense, tear.


	8. Chapter 8  I Should Go

**Author's Note: This chapter is named after "I Should Go," by Levi Kreis. This, as you may recall, was the song playing in "As I Lay Dying," when Damon and Elena were cuddled together in Damon's bed, exchanging what they both believed would be the final words they would ever say to one another. Of course, this special song also provides the soundtrack to their First Official Kiss! I found the lyrics of "I Should Go" to be breathtakingly beautiful - filled, as they are, with the complexities of unrequited love . . . of wanting to do **_**one**_** thing, but forcing yourself to do another, because it is the "right" thing to do. Considering that this is a "morning after" chapter for everybody in our story, I thought the song would fit well here . . .**

_8:23 a.m. – Bon Temps Motor Lodge_

Still swaddled in the comfortable blanket of sleep, Elena nuzzled deeper into the strong firm chest on which her head rested. Instinctively, she allowed her own breathing to fall in sync with his, so that their hearts beat in unison. She sighed deeply, noticing that one of his arms was wrapped protectively around her shoulders, while the other hugged her waist. The way his fingers rested on her bare skin sent a sensation of soothing warmth throughout her body.

Her eyes still closed, Elena smiled blissfully, feeling more safe, comfortable, and secure than she ever remembered feeling. "Damon," she whispered drowsily.

Upon hearing his name escape her lips, Elena's eyes shot open. She looked down and noticed, to her horror, that she was wearing only a lacy black bra and panties. Damon too was scantily clad, dressed in nothing but a pair of black boxers, which, while loose fitting, were apparently not loose enough to hide his morning arousal. "Uh Oh." She said out loud.

Now that she was fully awake, the effects of Elena's night of binge drinking began to take their toll on her, in a major way. Sharp lightning bolts of pain began to shoot through her forehead, and across her temples. Her mouth felt desert dry. Her stomach groaned its protest of the monster truck rally that had apparently taken place inside of it, just hours earlier.

Ever so gently, Elena began to peel Damon's hands off her skin . . . first one . . . then the other. She crept into the bathroom in search of Aspirin. "Looking for these?" Damon inquired from inside the open bathroom door, shaking a bottle of Aspirin in front of her tauntingly.

Elena jumped backward, clutching her hand to her heart. _Damn, my boyfriends, and their annoying vampire speed! Wait . . . Damon ISN'T my boyfriend. Only Stefan is . . . at least . . . he was._

As far as Elena knew, vampires didn't actually _get_ headaches. This meant that Damon probably stole that bottle of Aspirin out of her suitcase, while she was sleeping. Sighing, Elena reached up and snatched the pill bottle from Damon's open palm. As she did so, her hand brushed against his, sending a frustratingly familiar tingle down her spine.

"Thank you," she muttered, turning toward the sink, so he couldn't see that she was blushing. (Then again, he probably saw it through the mirror, anyway.)

"Yeah, well, I figured you might be a bit . . . _sore_ . . . after last night," Damon replied, giving the mirror a lascivious wink.

Elena cringed, as drunken memories from the night before flooded her subconscious. She had done a lot of _very bad things_ last night . . . and she probably would have done a _whole lot more_ of them, if Damon hadn't . . . _Or had he? _Elena noted, to her chagrin, that the final portion of the evening . . . the portion in which she had somehow ended up mostly naked in bed, in Damon's arms, was a complete blank space in her mind.

"Ummm . . . about that . . ." Elena began, as she shoved three Aspirin in her mouth, and followed it down with a mouthful of water.

"How much do you remember exactly, about what happened?" Damon asked with a knowing smile.

He was doing that Eye Thing again. _Why must he always do that damn Eye Thing, when my defenses are down? _Elena thought.

"I remember going to Fangtasia," Elena said slowly, trying desperately to call up the blurred images in her aching foggy brain.

Damon nodded, and motioned with his hand for her to continue.

"I remember getting into a fight with Stefan . . . I remember dancing, and drinking an entire bottle of tequila."

"Go on . . ." said Damon, as he handed Elena a towel for her hands and face.

"I remember us coming back to the hotel room . . . and I remember that I . . . that _we_ . . ."

Damon grinned widely. "Yes, you seduced me with your feminine wiles. Thank you for that, by the way," he added.

Elena felt herself blushing again, but she had to stay strong. "Then, I remember getting sick," She concluded, conveniently sidestepping the part of the story, where Damon did the gentlemanly thing, for once, by rejecting her drunken advances.

"Ahhh . . . yes . . . and ruined my new shoes. Good times!" Damon offered, raising a glass of what looked like blood to his lips, and taking a long sip. "What else do you remember?"

Damon was standing right behind Elena now. She felt his abdominals pressing up against her back, and could see the intense look he was giving her in the bathroom mirror. His nearness flustered her in ways she wasn't ready to admit to herself. "That's all I remember," she mumbled, looking ashamedly down into the sink.

"You're forgetting the best part," Damon said, as he swept Elena's hair away from her neck.

He then began lazily tracing his finger down its surface, toward her chest, causing her to shiver with a mixture of excitement and fear. "Did we?" She whispered.

"Yes . . . yes we did. And, I must say, you rocked _my world_."

Elena gasped, and stepped away from the sink, nearly tripping over the toilet, as she backed away from Damon's hypnotic touch.

"I mean, you were truly an animal! The whole time, you just kept screaming my name, over, and OVER again . . . DAMON . . . DAMON . . . OH . . .," he mimicked, in a comically high-pitched voice. "How are you and Stefan brothers, when you are so . . . much . . . BIGGER!"

Elena smirked and shook her head, secretly relieved. Obviously, Damon was only kidding! She then wiped the smile off her face quickly, so that she could go back to the business of pretending to be mad at him.

Thinking fast, Elena threw the bottle of Aspirin at Damon, causing it to bounce off his head, onto the floor. Damon pouted comically, before bending down to retrieve the bottle. He did so with exaggerated slowness, wiggling his admittedly cute ass in Elena's face, as he bent down. Elena groaned, being sure to slap Damon in the ass, as hard as possible, on his way back up.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to take a shower," Elena commanded, reaching out her hand to Damon's bare chest to push him through the door.

"You mean I can't come?" Damon inquired mischievously, licking his lips.

"NO!" Elena said, as she pushed Damon across the threshold, so that he was standing outside of the bathroom, and she was still in it.

Elena watched, to make sure he had actually walked away. She was about to close the door on Damon, when something gave her pause. "Damon . . ." she called after him.

Damon turned, and dashed back to the doorway. "Change your mind?" He inquired jokingly.

"I just wanted to say thank you . . . for taking care of me, last night . . . and for being . . . _good._ I know how hard it must have been for you. And I just want to let you know that I really appreciate it." Elena offered shyly.

Damon smiled sadly. In that moment, the veneer of the Cocky Bad Boy Vampire had cracked. In its place, was the visage of a vulnerable sensitive boy . . . one who was desperately head-over-heels in love with a girl he believed he couldn't have. "Anytime, Elena . . . I'm here . . . for as long as you'll have me," he concluded.

Elena closed the door then, leaning back against its pane, as emotional and physical exhaustion overtook her. _We are all SO screwed._ She thought to herself.

_8:35 a.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's Mansion_

Stefan woke up with a dry mouth, and a heart filled with guilt. They had both passed out, right there on the couch, exhausted from hours and hours of drug-induced love making. The more Stefan tried to forget what he had done the night before, the more his body reminded him. Every breath he took, he could smell Katherine's vanilla shampoo, and the natural floral aroma of her skin, intermingled as it was with the distinct aroma of sex.

He had fallen asleep with one of his hands clutching her soft pliant breast, and the other between her firm muscular legs. The gentle weight of Katherine's body pressed up against him, as she moaned softly in her sleep. Her lips were curled into a distinct smile. Stefan was so hard right now, it hurt.

For a brief moment, before he passed out, Stefan had hoped that the drug cocktail Queen Sophie Anne had slipped into his blood would have the effect of causing him to black out . . . to forget the way he mauled those two innocent girls at Fangtasia . . . to forget the horrible way he had treated Elena . . . and most of all, to forget the night of passion he had experienced with Katherine.

But, alas, Stefan remembered _everything_. The animalistic way she ripped off his clothing, and bit down on his neck . . . his stomach . . . his thighs. The way she screamed his name over and over again, as she road him for hours and hours on end, never seeming to tire, or run out of different moves to try on him, different positions with which to test and experiment . . . positions that definitely didn't exist, back when she took his virginity in 1864 . . . back when he loved her more than life itself . . . or at least _thought he_ did.

They came together every time, without fail, that night, their bodies instantly recalling how spectacular sex was between in the past, and eager to get back into business. Even arched in pleasure, Stefan's and Katherine's finely muscled stomachs seemed to fit perfectly into one another - his curves matching her hollows, and vice versa. So hungry was Stefan for blood . . . so eager was he to forget his sins . . . to forget _Elena . . . _that he had let the sensations brought on by chemical enhancement cloud his reasoning, and shut off his mind, so that all that was left was pure, unadulterated instinct.

But now, in the light of day, Stefan was forced to face what had happened. He could see Elena's face in his mind . . . her eyes filled with tears. "How could you?" She exclaimed in his subconscious. "How could you abandon me? How could you _do what you did_ . . . with _her . . . _and still claim to love _me_?"

Stefan was beginning to wonder that, himself. To blame his behavior on blood addiction and drug consumption would be an oversimplification of things, and he knew it. He wasn't going to let himself off the hook so easily. Somewhere deep down, Stefan had WANTED Katherine last night. He WANTED to hold her close, and feel her skin on his skin. He wanted to know if the feelings he had for her all those years ago still existed.

_Not everything has to be black and white, Stefan._ Katherine's words echoed in his brain.

Stefan looked down at Katherine, who he was still holding in his arms. In sleep, she looked so peaceful. Gone were the manipulations, machinations, and sly mockery. Gone was the cold and heartless façade she hid behind . . . the wall she erected between herself and others, whenever she was trying to avoid _feeling_. Without all of this, Katherine looked surprisingly vulnerable . . . _sweet_ even.

And that's when Stefan realized it: he was still in love with Katherine Petrova . . .

_8:42 a.m._

Elena emerged from the shower with a way too small towel wrapped loosely around her midsection. (Apparently, all the other towels in the hotel room had been used by Damon to clean up last night's _mess_.) When she entered the bedroom, she noticed that Damon was lying on top of the unmade bed, watching the news. Upon seeing her enter, he quickly turned off the television, a nervous look in his eyes.

Elena folded her hands across her chest. "_What_ . . . what did you see?"

"Nothing . . . just some lame local commercial for spare tractor parts. The people in this town are SUCH hillbillies," Damon said, as casually as he could muster.

Elena knew immediately that he was lying. "Give me the remote, Damon," Elena threatened, moving toward the bed.

Damon shook his head vigorously, holding the remote away from her. "I told you, it's nothing. You should get dressed," he said.

OK, now Elena KNEW something was up. The Damon _she_ knew would NEVER encourage Elena to put on _more_ clothing. The Petrova Doppelganger rushed to Damon's side, and attempted to make a grab at the remote control. Thinking fast, he slipped it beneath his backside.

Refusing to be deterred, Elena leapt on top of Damon, and reached beneath him, leaning forward to get a better grasp on the remote. Suddenly, she stopped. Damon's lips were just inches away from hers. She was on top of him _again_, just as she had been the night before. Suddenly, she was overtaken with an intense desire to kiss him. Damon's eyes widened. And Elena could see now that they were filled with as much passion as she was feeling.

They stayed there like that for a few moments, in shock over the strength of their emotions. Elena came back to herself first, tightening her towel around her, as she extricated herself from Damon's body. Released from her spell, Damon found himself able to think rationally once again. He threw the remote control at the television, breaking both in a single toss. "Oops," he said with a slight smirk. "How clumsy I am."

Elena shook her head in disapproval. "_You_ are paying for that, you know!" She scolded, relieved to be fighting with Damon again, instead of doing . . . whatever it was they almost _did_, back there on the bed.

Suddenly, Elena had an idea. Without bothering to get dressed, she threw open the door to their hotel room. As expected, the _Bon Temps Spectator_ had been conveniently left on their doorstep that morning. Leaning against the door, Elena read the headline in bold letters on the front page. "Double Homicide at Vampire Nightclub - Suspect Still at Large." Just below the headline were three pictures.

The first two photographs were obviously of the girls she had seen hanging all over Stefan at Fangtasia, the night before. Without their vamp makeup and trashy outfits, the two victims looked surprisingly innocent. They looked like the type of girls Elena might have even befriended, if they attended her high school. For a moment, Elena thought about the families' of these young women, and how devastated they must be this morning.

But it was the third picture that shook Elena to her core . . . a picture of Stefan Salvatore.

_9:00 a.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's Mansion_

Stefan's stomach growled ferociously at him, causing him to moan in frustration. Of course, he was hungry again. What else was new?

The younger Salvatore Brother extricated himself from Katherine, and stumbled toward the kitchen, stark naked. Once there, he was greeted by a man in a butler uniform, who wordlessly handed him a pitcher filled with blood. Embarrassed, Stefan muttered a thank you, and took the pitcher from the man, chugging it down, as fast as he could.

Before he could finish, the doorbell rang. That same butler scurried quickly into the living room (where Katherine still lied, sleeping and naked) to answer the door. Not wanting to startle Queen Sophie Anne's guest with the sight of _yet another_ naked body, Stefan stayed in the kitchen . . . until he heard the sound of the butler's heart being ripped out of his chest.

"Well, hello Katherine. Don't bother getting dressed on _my account_. You always _did_ look fetching in your birthday suit," said Klaus, as he carelessly stepped over the butler's corpse.


	9. Chapter 9  My Boyfriend's Back

**Author's Note: This chapter was inspired by the song "My Boyfriend's Back," by the Raveonettes. As you may have already guessed, this popular "Golden Oldie" was featured in the episode **_**Unpleasantville**_**, which included, among other things, a fifties-themed dance. You'll notice that, in the context of this story, the song's lyrics have a much darker meaning than the song writers initially intended . . .**

_8:48 a.m. – Bon Temps Motor Lodge_

The color gradually drained from Elena Gilbert's face, as she stood, stock still, in the doorway of the motel room, reading the _Bon Temp Spectator_'s cover story. Once she finished reading, Elena allowed the newspaper to drift from her fingertips, and flutter gently to the floor. And yet, she, herself, remained rooted to the same spot, as if her feet had been glued to the carpet beneath her.

The whole time Elena was reading, Damon Salvatore waited patiently for her to finish. It was all he could do . . . _really._ Mentally, he had begun kicking himself for destroying the television. Its metallic bits were now scattered across the hotel floor. And every few minutes, one of them would give off a spark. His little act of defensive vandalism was not only going to require a heck of a lot of compulsion to "clean up," it may actually end up burning the place down!

Thinking back, Damon realized how foolish it was of him to think that he could protect Elena from _this._ She was destined to find out, eventually. At least, _this _way, she got to do it in the relative comfort of the motel room . . .

"If you're going to be sick again, please let me know. I'll go throw down some towels, or something," Damon snarked, the obvious look of concern on his face, belying his attempt at humor.

Elena slowly walked back toward the center of the room, a dazed expression in her eyes. She looked like a woman compelled. For a few moments, Damon contemplating removing Elena's vervain necklace, and _actually_ compelling her. He could easily make her forget the horrors she had recently experienced. He could take away her pain . . . make her _whole_ again.

But, of course, Damon realized that removing the newspaper article from Elena's consciousness wouldn't be enough to truly make her happy. For that, he would have to make her forget losing her aunt . . . her adoptive parents . . . her _biological _parents . . . her _entire_ childhood. The thought depressed Damon more than he was willing to admit.

The elder Salvatore brother was snapped out of his reverie, when he saw Elena begin to swoon, her eyes rolling back in her head. With vampire speed, he positioned himself behind her, allowing her head and body to fall back into his sturdy waiting arms, rather than into the wooden night table, where she was originally headed. The incident had the unexpected effect of causing Elena's towel to drop to the floor, exposing Damon to a tantalizing peek at her olive skin, among _other things_. Damon shook his head vigorously, trying to shoo from his brain the image of Elena from the night before, _touching_ him . . . _wanting_ him . . . _needing_ him. But, of course, that was just the alcohol working its magic. _Wasn't it_?

After a few brief moments, Elena returned to consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open to the image of Damon's chiseled face, his iced cobalt blue orbs staring intently down at her through long dark lashes. Still not quite back to herself, Elena smiled dopily, instinctively leaning closer to Damon, as he laid her back down on the bed. Reluctantly, Damon let go of her, laying her too short towel back across her body, before heading to the bathroom, to get her a glass of water. By the time he returned, she was sitting upright, clutching the piece of terry cloth tightly to her body.

When Damon handed her the glass of water, she took it gratefully, and gulped it down slowly and soundlessly . . . anything to avoid the conversation she was about to have. "Those girls at the bar last night . . . he _actually_ killed them," Elena whispered, her eyes blinking back tears.

"I know," said Damon solemnly, as he removed the glass from Elena's shaking hands, and placed it on the bedside table.

"I _saw_ him do it to the first girl . . . but then she disappeared so quickly, that I thought . . . I _hoped_ . . ."

"I _know_," Damon replied again, grasping both of Elena's hands in his own.

Her small dainty hands felt cold as ice, and before he realized what he was doing, he found himself massaging them with his fingers to keep them warm.

Damon's touch had an immediate relaxing effect on Elena. He could hear the sound of her breathing - which had been short and gasping - gradually slow to normal speed. Elena's heart, which, moments before, had been thumping loudly in her chest, eventually followed suit. She looked up at Damon, giving him a small nod of thanks.

"All those times he told me he used to be like _this_ . . . a _monster_ . . . I don't think I ever really believed him," Elena noted with disbelief. "Even that time at the pageant, when he disappeared with Amber, and you and I had to . . ."

Elena blushed a bit at the memory of her dance with Damon on the day of the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant. The tingling sensation that rushed through her body upon remembering that moment seemed all the more inappropriate considering the trauma that followed it. "He was able to stop himself then . . . _We_ were able to stop him. But_ now_ . . . I can't . . . I _don't_ . . ."

Finally, Elena broke down, bursting into tears, as Damon clutched her tightly to his chest, running his hand soothingly through her hair, as her wet face nuzzled against his bare skin. "What if we can't get him back this time? What if he stays like this forever? I mean, he can actually go to _jail_ for this, Damon."

"Yes, the term 'life imprisonment' bears a whole new meaning, when you're a vampire," Damon offered dryly. "And did you notice how he told everybody at the bar his name was 'Damon?' That was a nice touch, don't you think?" The elder Salvatore Brother added with a smirk.

The comments had their intended effect, in that they caused Elena to smile, in spite of herself. "Damon," she scolded, punching him in the arm. "This is _serious_."

Damon nodded. _This was serious._ The Stefan Situation had become grimmer than he had ever imagined it would be. And this meant that more dangerous methods would have to be employed to get him back. "I promise you, we can fix this, Elena. We just have to change our strategy," Damon said into her long brunette hair, as its intoxicating scent filled his nostrils.

"What do you mean, 'change our strategy'?" Elena inquired, looking back up at Damon, with an adorably crinkled brow.

Damon thought for a moment, before forming his response. "Well, we are _clearly_ not going to get Stefan back on the wagon, of his own accord. He is _way _too far gone for that . . . which just means we are going to have to kidnap him."

Elena shook her head in disbelief. "_Kidnap_ him? That's great, Damon." She said sarcastically. "And how exactly do you expect to get him away from Klaus long enough to _do_ that?"

"Simple," Damon said, rising from his position on the bed, with a determined look on his face. "We're going to kill him . . . kill _Klaus_, I mean," he added hurriedly, catching the look of horror that passed across Elena's face.

"Riiiiiight . . . because that worked out _so well,_ last time," Elena remarked.

Damon couldn't help but smile. _Sarcasm._ Elena was more like him than she would ever be willing to admit. "It's not going to be like last time . . . because, _last time_, I only had Bonnie and Stefan on my side."

"And _this time,_ you only have _me . . ._ which, pretty much, means you're screwed," Elena replied, as she watched Damon pace the perimeter of the hotel room.

"No, Elena," he said firmly. "_This time_, we're going to have an _entire army._"

_9:05 a.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's Mansion_

Stefan emerged from the kitchen, fangs bared. He sped across the room, so that he could block Katherine's body from Klaus' view. _You always did look fetching in your birthday suit. _Klaus' words to Katherine echoed gratingly in his ears. In truth, they shouldn't have bothered him. After all, not too long ago, Stefan had spent night after night, with his body entwined with Elena's . . . her long muscular legs wrapped around his waist . . . her mouth on his . . . her hands . . .

And Katherine . . . well, surely a 500-year old woman with such a voracious appetite for sex had been with countless men OTHER than just him and Damon, during lengthy stay on Earth. But there was something about the image of _Katherine and Klaus_ lying naked together in passionate embrace that set Stefan's teeth on edge. Of course, considering that Klaus had just located him AND _Katherine_, Stefan knew he had more to worry about than petty matters of jealously.

"Stefan . . . you've been a VERY naughty boy," Klaus sang mockingly, his lips curled in a smirk. "Killing college coeds in bars . . . dumping their bodies into incinerators . . . going by your brother's name . . . cheating on your Petrova Doppelganger Girlfriend, with your OTHER Petrova Doppelganger girlfriend . . ."

Stefan growled angrily, yet did not speak. He would like nothing better than to bite off Klaus' head, and tear his flesh, limb from limb. But for now, he needed to be patient, and figure out his next move . . .

Of course, Klaus had more to say, "And this picture of you, Stefan . . . it is just so _adorable_," Klaus cooed, pulling a rolled-up newspaper from his back pocket to show it to his captive audience. "Is this your _high school yearbook _picture? I think it _is_! Such a sweet smile, you have, Stefan. But I must say, I much prefer what you are wearing _now_ to what are you are wearing in this photograph."

With the attention briefly off her, Katherine took the opportunity to escape, using her vampire speed to rush up the long winding staircase of Queen Sophie Anne's mansion. But Klaus was faster than she was. And by the time she arrived at the top of the stairs, he was already in front of her.

Grinning, Klaus casually grabbed Katherine by her waist with one hand, as he explored the curves of her body with the other. As he did this, he buried his head in the crook of her neck. Katherine tensed up her muscles, trying to fight off the arousal that was overtaking her. As much as her _brain_ feared Klaus, her body and limbs remembered a different side of him . . . a more _sensual_ side.

Klaus used Katherine's distraction to his advantage, and threw her over the railing of the staircase. She dangled there, screaming, legs kicking ferociously, trying, in vain, to pull her body upward. But all she could do was hold on tightly to Klaus' hand, since it was the only thing keeping her from a lengthy plummet to the ground below. Tears filled her eyes, as she whispered. "Please, don't . . . Klaus."

Within seconds, Stefan was up the stairs as well, which, of course, was precisely what Klaus had wanted. "Don't hurt her," he said, trying to keep his voice void of telltale emotion. "We could use her later."

Still holding on to a frantic Katherine, Klaus turned toward Stefan, brows furrowed. "_Use her_ . . . the way you _used her,_ last night. I hate to say it Stefan, but your proposition doesn't interest me. I've been there, and done that . . . ," he said, leering at Katherine's nude body as it dangled over the railing. " . . . _many_ times."

"Listen," said Stefan, now unable to keep the tension out of his voice. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll be your Ripper for a decade . . . a century, _even_ . . . I'll rape . . . I'll steal . . . I'll _kill_. Just do this one thing for me. And I promise, I'll never lie to you again."

Klaus laughed. "A-ha. I knew it! I knew it since the moment you let Elena go with me, the night of _The Sacrifice__** . . . **_And, when it was all over, you let _Damon_ carry her home, so that you could make sure I was dead. At first, I thought you gave up Elena for your brother's life, out of some sick sense of fraternal _responsibility._ Now, I see that you never loved her _at all_. It was _Katherine_ . . . it has always been Katherine for you, hasn't it, Stefan."

Before Stefan could form a response to Klaus' statement, Queen Sophie Anne emerged in frilly pink dressing gown. "Katherine, you didn't tell me we had more guests," she said sweetly, as she threw Klaus down on the ground in the stairway, catching him completely by surprise.

Stefan immediately rushed to Katherine, gradually helping her to pull herself up from the railing. When she was safe, he held her tightly in her arms, the contours of her nude body fitting perfectly into the shadows of his own. He felt her head burrow deeply into the crook of her neck, as she shook from fear, relief, and joy. "God, I love you," she whispered in his ear, breathily.

"I love you too," he whispered back, knowing instantly that it was true.

Meanwhile, Sophie Anne and Klaus were deep in battle, their eyes glowing red . . . their fangs bared . . . their shoulders clenched. At first, the pair seemed fairly evenly matched. They clawed and scratched at one another, each drawing blood, ripping at one another's clothing with their teeth and hands. The sound of growling filled the air, as these two worthy opponents each luxuriated in the thrill of the hunt.

It was Stefan that heard it first . . . the cracking of bone. Still gripping Katherine tightly to him, Stefan turned and watched with horror, as fine black hairs sprouted on Klaus back . . . his neck . . . his legs. A low guttural sound that Stefan had heard only once before, echoed throughout the house, shaking its foundation. And that's when he knew . . . Klaus was undergoing his _werewolf transformation._

Queen Sophie Anne's eyes widened, revealing a series of emotions in rapid succession . . . confusion, recognition, realization, and, finally FEAR. Sophie Anne was in retreat mode now, as she instinctively backed away from the World's First Werewolf - Vampire Hybrid. But it was too late. Klaus had already lifted Sophie Anne's body up deftly to his face, taking a long deep chuck of flesh from her neck, as he casually tossed her screaming, flailing, body, over the railing of her own house.

Stefan didn't have to look to know where he had thrown her. Queen Sophie Anne had a hideous sculpture in her living room. It was a series of extended sharp, highly-phallic looking blood red fangs, the size of small children, which together formed a demented vampire smile. "Don't look," he whispered to Katherine.

But look, she did. Katherine's screams shattered glass throughout the house, as she took in the image of her oldest friend, impaled on a fang. Her blood spewed forth from her lifeless body, like a geyser. All Stefan could do was hug her tighter, and try to take some of her pain away.

"She was the Queen of Louisiana, Klaus . . . one of the most powerful, well-loved, vampires in this country," Stefan noted bitterly. "They'll never let you get away with this."

Klaus laughed maniacally, as his body slowly morphed back into vampire form. "They are going to _have_ to . . .," he replied gleefully. " . . . because, there's _new_ King in town. And _his_ name is Klaus."


	10. Chapter 10  Manipulating Woman

**Author's Note – The title of this chapter is inspired by the song "Manipulating Woman" by Ladyhawke. The song was featured in the episode of The Vampire Diaries entitled "Crying Wolf." It provided the soundtrack for Bonnie, as she offered the ill-fated warlock, Luka, a very "special" cup of coffee. In this chapter of our story, the **_**men**_** may seem to be holding all the cards, but the REAL power lies with the women . . .**

_9:06 a.m. – Bon Temps Motor Lodge_

Elena didn't bother to hide her skepticism, as she met Damon's cocky smile with the raised eyebrows and bemused smirk of a non-believer. "An _army_?" She inquired incredulously. "No offense, but what do _you_ know about running an army? Last time I checked, discipline wasn't exactly your strong suit."

The minute the words left Elena's lips, she wished she had kept her big mouth shut. After all, both Elena and Damon knew _full well_ that discipline had very much been Damon's "strong suit," _last night_, when he refused to take advantage of Elena's . . . "condition."

The pair regarded one another in silence for a few short moments . . . just long enough for Elena to recognize that Damon had caught on to her obvious mistake. Then, the elder Salvatore brother graciously continued on, as if nothing had happened. "Well, _Elena . . . _you forget that I was IN an army, once. _The Civil War_? _The Confederacy_? I know how they work. You teach people how to fight . . . scream in their faces a lot . . . lower their self-esteem, through a campaign of psychological torture. Let's face it. It's the job I was born to do!" Damon explained happily, as he reached into his suitcase and pulled out a black button-down shirt.

Elena shook her head. "I don't think it's that simple, Damon. Besides, didn't you _desert _the Confederacy, pretty much as soon as the war started?"

Damon had been focused on buttoning his shirt. However, he looked up briefly to offer Elena his most disarmingly boyish smile, and his naughtiest wink. "Precisely . . .," he replied. ". . . which, of course, is why they _lost_. Now . . . tell me . . . how do I look?"

Elena regarded the way Damon's dark fitted shirt complemented his firmly muscled physique with obvious approval. Then, her eyes traveled down to his mid-section. And she had to place her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. "You _look_ . . . like someone who doesn't know how to dress himself," she answered, rising from the bed and moving toward him. "Look at this! Those buttons are all wrong!"

Damon glanced down at his lopsided shirt, and smirked with embarrassment. If he was still capable of doing so, he probably would have blushed. "Oops," he said sheepishly. "I guess I was a bit preoccupied with my plans to save The World."

"Here . . . let me do it," offered Elena, as she methodically began to unbutton Damon's shirt, her fingers gently brushing up against his skin, as she worked.

Damon looked down at Elena. And she looked up at him. They stood frozen like that for a few beats, disarmed by the matching looks of sheer intensity they found in one another's eyes, and aroused by the close proximity of each other's bodies. Damon's muscles tensed, while he held his breath. It was all he could do to prevent himself from grabbing Elena in his arms, running his fingers across her soft skin, and showering her entire body with fiercely passionate kisses.

"All done," Elena whispered, blinking exaggeratedly in a feeble attempt to break herself out of the trance she found herself falling under lately, every time she looked into Damon's steely blue eyes.

"Thank you," Damon managed to reply, forcing his now desire-fogged brain back to the matter at hand. "I . . . uh . . . have to go out for a little while. I'll be back in a bit."

Elena took a few steps back, her eyes suddenly filling with concern. "Wait . . . where are you going?"

Damon's body instinctually stiffened, following Elena's inquiry. And though he tried to offer her a carefree smile, in response, Elena was not fooled. "I'm off to build my army . . . _obviously_," he answered casually.

"And I'm coming with you . . . _obviously_," Elena added, her eyes blazing with fierce determination.

"You can't," said Damon.

"Yes . . . I _can_."

"You aren't dressed."

"Well, I'll _be_ _dressed,_ in about two minutes."

"I don't think so."

"Why _not_?"

"Because . . . I've hidden your clothes."

Elena raced to her suitcase. Sure enough, it was completely empty, save for some toiletries, and a piece of hotel stationary, with the words "Sorry! Love – Damon," printed on it in childish scrawl.

"DAMON SALVATORE . . . you _better_ . . ." Elena began furiously.

"Be back _soon_," called out Damon gleefully, as the door slammed behind him.

Elena rushed to the door, flinging it open again. But Damon was already nowhere to be found. She then proceeded to turn the room inside out, searching for her wardrobe . . . or _Damon's wardrobe_ . . . anything she could put on her body, aside from the scandalously short towel she was currently wearing. Unfortunately, there was not an item of clothing anywhere on the premises. Damon had apparently done a _very_ good job of hiding it all.

Pouting, Elena glanced longingly at the broken television, before flopping back down on the hotel bed, exhausted from her futile scavenger hunt. _What the heck am I supposed to do now?_ She wondered, as her eyes casually perused the disheveled room for something to occupy her time.

That was when she saw it . . . Damon's _laptop_. It was resting precariously on the coffee table in the corner of the room. And right next to it was . . . _Damon's Visa Platinum Credit Card._

Elena smiled mischievously. _Serves him right, for abandoning me in this hotel room! _She thought to herself. Rubbing her hands together wickedly, she grabbed the computer and credit card, and brought them both back into bed with her. In seconds, she had found the website she was seeking. Reaching into her purse, she extracted her cell phone and dialed.

"Caroline? It's Elena . . . Listen, I have a favor to ask of you. How fast can you get on a plane?"

_10:30 a.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's . . . oops. . . I mean . . . King Klaus' Mansion_

"Ughhhhh . . . how much longer are they going to be down there?" Katherine griped, as she lounged lazily on the late Sophie Anne's leather couch.

No longer in her "Birthday Suit," Katherine was now wearing a black _Fangtasia_ t-shirt she had found lying on the floor next to the pool. The shirt was just long enough to cover her lady parts. However, every time she stretched, or shifted position (which she did quite often), all vestiges of modesty disappeared (especially since she hadn't bothered to put on any underwear).

When Stefan inquired as to her unique, distinctly _non-Katherine-like_, choice of attire, the brunette vampire replied that she was simply too depressed over her best friend's "untimely" demise to get dressed. Nonetheless, as Katherine began massaging her legs - moaning softly as she deliberately kneaded the muscles of her inner thighs with her fingers - the increasingly hot and bothered Stefan couldn't help but wonder whether the elder Petrova Doppelganger's unique "outfit" had been selected for more sinister reasons.

Since his own luggage was still lying in a guest bedroom in Eric Northman's house (a place that he doubted he'd be returning to anytime soon, under the circumstances) . . . and the clothing he had worn the night before had been shredded beyond repair, during the evening's "activities" . . . Stefan was forced to resort to wearing a pair of red drawstring sweatpants. Though admittedly comfortable, they were also about two sizes too big, and had obviously belonged to one of the former Queen's "gentlemen callers."

Stefan turned toward the basement, using his vampire hearing to try to make out the muffled voices of Klaus and his "guests." Unfortunately, Queen Sophie Anne had obviously paid quite a bit of money to have her walls extensively, and supernaturally, sound-proofed. So, all Stefan could hear were the sounds of Katherine's moans, and his own increasingly labored breathing. "I have no idea when they'll be finished. I don't even know what they're _doing_," he responded in frustration, as he paced the room frantically.

"King" Klaus was nothing, if not efficient. Mere moments after the Original Hybrid had unceremoniously disposed of the Queen of Louisiana, a caravan of cars had arrived in the driveway of the mansion. In total, there were about fifty of them . . . men, women, and children . . . ranging in age from 10 to about 55. The overpowering doglike stench that wafted after them, as they trudged through the entrance foyer, was enough to make Katherine want to vomit.

Stefan noted, to his chagrin, that the _only_ way Klaus could have possibly arranged such a massive convocation, in such a short amount of time, was if he had planned for it, in advance. The younger Salvatore brother shook his head angrily, as everything became suddenly clear to him: the two women he had killed at Fangtasia . . . Queen Sophie Anne finding him in the parking lot . . . his rendezvous with Katherine . . . the fatal showdown between Klaus and Sophie Anne . . . Klaus had orchestrated _all of it. _And Stefan and Katherine were simply mere pawns in his giant chess game for World Domination.

"You mean, he never told you what he was planning to do?" Katherine wondered out loud. "Aren't you guys supposed to be like BFF's now, or something?"

Stefan growled. "KLAUS is not my _BFF_! He's not my ANYTHING!"

Katherine raised her hands upward in a placatory gesture. "OK . . . _fine_. He's not _your friend_. Chill out! And, please, _sit down_. You're making me nervous," Katherine commanded.

Stefan sighed, and sat down roughly next to Katherine. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know this hasn't exactly been a picnic for _you_, either."

Katherine smiled, and offered Stefan a wink. "Awww, it hasn't been all bad! Has it?"

Stefan laughed heartily for a few moments, guiltily recalling the events of the night before. But then he remembered who, ultimately, had caused them, and became serious, once again. "How did everything get so screwed up, Katherine? How did WE get so screwed up? Back in 1864, it all seemed so simple. I loved _you_, and you . . ."

"I loved you too . . . _really, I did,_" Katherine replied, finishing his sentence for him.

"So, why wasn't it enough?" Stefan inquired sadly.

Katherine just shook her head. "You're so tense," she whispered in his ear, as she began to gently massage his back with the same dedication and energy, she had been giving to her own legs, just moments earlier. Her palms moved up and down his spine in long lazy circles, as she caressed his skin with the delicate touch of someone who knew him intimately, inside and out. "Sometimes, you just have to _let go_ of the past, and just _BE_," she added soothingly.

At first, Stefan stubbornly retained the tension in his muscles. He needed to be _strong_ and _mentally alert_. Very soon, he was going to have to chart out their next course of action . . . and, if necessary, their escape route. But as Katherine's fingers began to work their magic on Stefan's shoulders, he felt his body begin to relax, in spite of himself.

"That feels _really_ good," Stefan managed huskily, as Katherine worked her way up to his neck. In doing so, she gave special attention to the spot, right beneath his hairline, which always seemed to knot up, whenever he was stressed. A sense of satisfying relief washed over Stefan, when she did _this_ . . . causing his shoulders to slump forward, and his heavy head to fall forward into his chest.

A blissful drowsiness took over Stefan, as Katherine continued to lull him deeper and deeper into submission, kneading his temples and forehead with her delicate thumbs. When she gently pulled his head back down toward into her lap, he no longer had any energy left to resist her. He just felt so calm . . . so light-headed . . . and so _very_, _very_ tired.

"Just sleep now," Katherine instructed, patiently running her fingers across Stefan's increasingly heavy eyelids, until they fluttered closed.

And sleep, he _did_ . . . until the sound of fifty-one feral howls shook him rudely out of his stupor. No amount of soundproofing would be able to muffle the earsplitting noise that was coming from that basement. The ground beneath Stefan and Katherine shook, as ferocious creatures thrashed and bucked beneath the floorboards.

"What the hell is that?" Katherine sputtered, her almond-shaped eyes widened with fear.

Stefan clenched his fists tightly. He had finally figured out exactly what Klaus and his "new friends" had been doing down there all that time, and it made him sick. "They're all transforming," he said, rising abruptly from the couch.

"Into _werewolves_? But . . . it's not even a Full Moon," Katherine prodded, cocking her head sideways, so that she could better discern the source of the noise.

Stefan punched a pillow so hard that his hand came right through the fabric, sending a shower of feathers across the couch. "You don't need a Full Moon to transform . . . when you're a _hybrid_," he replied.

_6:15 p.m. – Fangtasia "Executive Office"_

Eric Northman sighed deeply, as he leaned back in his desk chair, stroking his chin with consternation. As the head of the American Vampire League, Nan Flanagan was arguably the most powerful vampire in the nation . . . more powerful than any of its Kings and Queens . . . and _certainly_ more powerful than _Eric_, a mere _Sheriff._ She was a distinctly unpleasant woman - at least as far as the Viking Vampire was concerned – one who lacked any sense of humor or fun, and had probably not smiled_ once_, since the Birth of Christ. Eric knew full well that Nan generally wasn't the type to make house calls . . .

So, when this _all work, no play_, woman materialized in his bar, just moments after sundown, Eric was mentally prepared to receive bad news. Unfortunately, he had underestimated just HOW bad that news would be. Not one for small talk, Nan cut right to the chase . . .

"Mr. Northman, are you familiar with _these individuals_?" The AVL enforcer inquired sternly, slapping a photograph of Stefan and Klaus down on the desk in front of him.

The photograph was a candid shot, one that had clearly been taken without the knowledge of its two subjects. The pair was seated in a booth in the back corner of _Fangtasia_. Eric was with them.

The Viking Vampire studied the picture for a few moments, before looking Nan directly in the eye. There was no use lying to someone like _this . . . someone_ who already knew _everything _about . . . well . . . _Everything._ "The older vampire, Klaus, is an old acquaintance of mine," Eric explained emotionlessly. "He was in town on business, and asked if he could stay with me for a few days. So, I obliged. The younger vampire I just met last night. He's one of Klaus' associates."

Nan nodded her head impatiently, while Eric spoke, as if she already knew exactly what he was going to say, and was annoyed at him for taking so long to say it. She then sat down in the chair across from Eric, clasping her hands in front of her, as if she was praying. "It seems you have failed to inform your _little friends_ about the way things work around here," Nan began bitterly. "And, as a result, these _friends_ have made certain choices that threaten to destroy our way of life. So, of course, you will have to destroy THEM, _immediately_ . . . or, I will destroy YOU."


	11. Chapter 11  The Fellowship

**Author's Note: This chapter was inspired by the Smashing Pumpkins' Song "The Fellowship," which was featured in the Vampire Diaries' episode, "Kill or Be Killed." Admittedly, this chapter ended up being a bit longer than I intended. Hopefully, you will still find it relatively enjoyable, and sufficiently Delena-y (particularly in the final segment), for your taste. Happy reading!**

_1:45 p.m. – Caroline Forbes' house_

"Mom, stop WORRYING! It's just a cheerleading competition . . . school sanctioned, chaperoned, and TOTALLY boring. I'll be back in time for school on Monday, I promise" Caroline Forbes insisted, as she ran past her mother down the steps, moving toward the door.

When Elena first called Caroline, asking her to drop everything, and hop on a plane toward some random town in Louisiana, the blonde vampire had contemplated compelling her mother to allow her to go (and maybe even spot her a couple hundred dollars in shopping and souvenir money). And yet, considering all that had happened between Caroline and her mom this past year, and how the elder Forbes had just FINALLY begun to accept her daughter's newly undead status, Caroline felt that using compulsion on her _now_ would be too big a violation of trust. So, instead, she decided to resort to the default human _teenager_ method of getting what she wanted: lying through her teeth . . . well . . . her _fangs._

"I want you to call me as soon as you land, and _BE CAREFUL_," Liz Forbes cautioned, kissing her daughter on the forehead.

Caroline smiled, put down her bags, and gave her mother a hug. "I love you, Mom," she said in her ear.

"I love you too, Sweetie, replied Liz, looking over her daughter's shoulder at the vehicle now parked in her driveway. "Ummm . . . honey, since when does the cheerleading squad use _stretch limos_ to escort its members to the airport?"

Caroline shook her head, and tried to stifle a laugh. Elena hadn't given Caroline many details over the phone, as to how this little impromptu vacation came about. All she told her was that Damon Salvatore had pissed her off royally, and needed to be taught a lesson BIG TIME. That was really all Caroline needed to hear. Her bags were already packed, before Elena had hung up the phone.

Though the two vampires had managed to temporarily put aside their differences, and unite against a few common enemies (first Katherine, than the werewolves, and, most recently, Klaus) there was a small part of Caroline that still held a very sizeable grudge against Damon for that brief period of time when he had compelled her human self to, more or less, become his sex slave. And while, admittedly, the experience wasn't ENTIRELY unpleasant (This was Damon Salvatore, after all!), the staunch feminist in Caroline told her that she would be doing a deep disservice to her sex, if she didn't somehow ensure that Damon paid in full for his crimes against womanhood.

Maxing out Damon's credit cards, and hijacking his mission to save his brother, wasn't exactly the method of revenge Caroline had in mind. But it was certainly a start . . .

"This is your tax dollars at work, Mom! See you, Monday," Caroline responded gleefully, dashing toward the limo at vampire speed, before her mother could get in another word, edgewise.

A rather morose-looking chauffeur took the young vampire's bags, and held the door open for her. When Caroline climbed into the backseat, she found herself locking eyes with a _very_ familiar face. "Tyler?" She inquired.

A not entirely unpleasant tingling sensation trickled through Caroline's body, as she allowed her eyes to drift across the tan skinned, substantially-muscled frame that she had gotten to know VERY well, over these past few weeks. Based on the look Tyler was giving her now, she was pretty sure the same thing was happening to him.

"Hey Caroline," Tyler offered shyly, a barely concealed grin instinctively forming at the corners of his mouth, as a result of the young vampire's close proximity to him.

Something told Caroline that this was going to be a very _interesting_ vacation, _indeed_ . . .

_2:30 p.m. – Bon Temps Motor Lodge_

The queen-sized bed in Elena Gilbert's hotel room was littered with uneaten breakfast items of every variety. The front desk attendant had let out an audible gasp, when Elena had instructed her that she wanted "two of everything" charged to Damon Salvatore's credit card. Then, when the food arrived, Elena gave the bellhop such an obscenely large tip, that he was gladly willing to overlook the shattered bits of television adorning the carpet. The fact that she was dressed in nothing but a skimpy little towel, when he arrived, certainly didn't hurt matters . . .

Elena was busy trying to arrange the plates of food into a pointed message for Damon, in anticipation of his return, when there was another knock at the door. Elena grinned, when she saw the tall, red-headed, teenage vampire through the peep hole. It was hard to believe she had just met Jessica less than 24-hours ago, as the pair had already become fast friends.

"Oh, Elena, honey! I appreciate your trying to be a good host and all, but . . . I don't actually _eat_," Jessica admitted apologetically, as she examined the buffet of food fanned out in front of Elena. "Wait a second . . . does that say what I think it says? You naughty girl, you! My maker would wash my fangs out with soap for even _thinking_ those words. Of course, little does he know I say them all the time when he's not around," she added conspiratorially.

Elena grinned. "Let's just say the recipient of these words _absolutely _deserves them for the little trick he played on me. Did you get what I asked you for?"

Jessica held up four large shopping bags, and gestured toward them with a dramatic game show host flourish. "Let me tell you, it is NOT easy shopping here! Most of the women in Bon Temps consider muumuus and skirt suits the color of Easter eggs to be high fashion. _Fortunately, _there's a great little dress shop in Shreveport that more than makes up for this. I hear they actually get their clothing imported from _New York_. Can you believe it? Anyway, I wasn't sure what you were looking for. So, I took the liberty of getting you every dress they had in your size."

_Oops._ The Petrova Doppelganger thought to herself. Clearly, Jessica had misheard Elena's statement that she "needed to get dressed" and had somehow come to the conclusion that Elena "needed _a dress_." Elena was about to let her new friend down easy, when her eyes rested upon the sexiest little red dress she had ever seen. Before she even realized what she was doing, Elena found herself reaching for it, and running her fingers across its soft fabric. Damon would go absolutely WILD for this dress . . . not that this had ANYTHING to do with her interest in it, of course!

Jessica nodded with approval. "That was my favorite too. I just didn't want to say anything, because I didn't want you to think I was trying to pressure you. Here, try it on."

Elena eagerly slipped into the sultry red cocktail dress, with the flare skirt and plunging neckline. After Jessica zipped her up in back, she rushed to the mirror, and was captivated by the image that stared back at her. The dress fit perfectly, gently caressing each of her slender curves, as if it was made specifically for her body. Its deep red fabric did wonders for her olive-toned skin, somehow making it appear _rosier_, as if her entire face was flushed . . . _with blood_. Elena knew immediately that she couldn't say no to this dress. _And there was a good chance that Damon wouldn't be able to say no to it either._

"Ohhh, Elena! You look stunning. But aren't you a little over dressed for an evening at Merlotte's?" Jessica inquired, a bit confused.

Elena's brow furrowed. "Merlotte's?"

"Yeah, that's where your boyfr . . . where that Damon guy is right now. He's been riling up the clientele all day . . . training them to be in some "army" or something. I figured it was one of those lame Civil War reenactment thingies. To each his own, I guess. When you called, I just assumed that you were going to meet him there."

Elena rubbed her hands with glee. _So, Damon was at Merlotte's . . . and in front of an audience, no less. This was going better than she could have ever imagined._ "Ummm . . . yes, I AM going to Merlotte's," answered Elena, in as natural of a voice as she could muster. "But, first, I have to stop by the airport and pick up some friends of mine. I was planning to call a car service."

"Oh, PLEASE can I come with you?" Jessica pleaded. "I've got my car right out back, so I can drive you! To be honest, I could really use some excitement in my life, Elena. This place can get so boring, sometimes."

Elena stifled a laugh. _If only she knew._ "Sure, the more the merrier I guess. But we'll have to leave now, if we want to beat traffic."

Jessica ruffled through her purse and pulled out her keys. "That's not going to be a problem at all. They don't call me Red Devil for nothing," the baby vampire offered with a wink, as the two headed for the door.

_3:58 p.m. – King Klaus' Mansion_

The growls coming from the basement were getting louder, and more insistent. Stefan knew it was only a matter of time before Klaus' army of hybrids stampeded upstairs, destroying every_thing_ and every_one_ in their wake, _including Stefan and Katherine_. Their time was running out, and fast.

"Katherine, you have to run," Stefan insisted, grabbing the female vampire's delicate face in his hands. "Klaus already got what he wanted from you: an en road to become king, a headquarters for his army, and a way to temporarily keep to me in line. Once those hybrids get a whiff of you, they will kill you, and Klaus won't do anything to stop it."

Katherine shook her head vigorously, a look of fierce determination in her face. "I'm not running, Stefan. I've done it for 500-years, and I'm not doing it again. What you said in the limo was right. I've been a coward . . . living my life on the lam, all this time. _Me . . . _ a vampire . . . a _predator_ . . . living like prey. PATHETIC. I've played the victim for way too long, Stefan. And that ends today."

Tears filled Stefan's eyes at the thought of losing Katherine again, so soon after he had finally come to terms with the strong feelings he'd been harboring for her all this time. For a moment, he contemplated giving in to the blood lust that was still boiling over inside of him. He could turn off his emotions, and let the raging monster inside of him free once again. It would be so much easier for him to do this . . . to no longer yearn to taste Katherine's sweet lips, and supple body . . . to shield himself from the guilt he felt over betraying Elena, by giving his heart to another . . . to simply forget all the innocent people he had drained of life, during his 160 plus years on Earth, as if none of it mattered. But he couldn't do that this time, not with this beautiful woman staring him in the face, vowing to be strong _for him_.

"Katherine, listen to me," Stefan insisted. "He wants to turn me into one of them . . . _a hybrid_. If I let him do this, I will become his equal. And I can defeat him. But I can't go through with it, if I don't know in my heart that you are safe. Let me do this, Katherine . . . for us, and for all the people whose lives he's ruined."

Katherine pulled Stefan's face toward hers, her lips and soft flesh pressing into his, with a hunger she didn't know was possible. She inhaled deeply, breathing in his intoxicatingly musky scent, as if it was a drug she needed to live. Every fiber of her being burned for him, and his for her . . . And it was that powerful feeling deep inside of Katherine that told her exactly what she needed to do.

"Did I ever tell you about my grandmother?" Katherine inquired in a voice so soft that Stefan almost couldn't hear her over the loud growls of the hybrid werewolves, as they pounded their way toward the top of the stairs.

"Katherine, this isn't the time for . . . YOU HAVE TO GO!" Stefan growled.

But Katherine continued to walk, almost as if in a trance, toward the bathroom, her face an emotionless mask of icy stoicism. "I was a real handful back when I was human . . . not nearly as wild and vindictive as I am now, of course, but definitely a parents' worst nightmare. I liked to dance all night at parties with inappropriate men of all ages. I had lots of amazing, euphoric, life-altering sex, in a time, when having multiple sexual partners was highly frowned upon. My family was also deeply religious. So, of course, I was a source of major embarrassment to them."

"One night I came home from a party, and my father was waiting up for me. It was obvious to him that I had been with another man. He could smell the stench of sex on me . . . ripe . . . pungent . . . feral . . . and, as far as he was concerned, evil. He slapped me in the face so hard that I had a handprint on my cheek for a week. Then, he spit at me, and told me that he wished I had never been born."

"I had never cried before. But tears came to me that night, in uncontrollable bursts, stifling my breathing, and making me wish I was dead."

"My grandmother came into my room that night. She hugged me, and kissed my forehead, rocking me back and forth, until I stopped sobbing. They used to call my grandmother a witch, because she could see things that other people couldn't. She knew the future before it happened. And that night, she whispered something in my ear that I never forgot. 'Katerina Petrova,' my grandmother said. 'One day, you are going to set the world on FIRE.'"

And with that, Katherine opened Sophie Anne's linen closet. Not surprisingly, the high maintenance former Queen's bathroom was filled with endless amounts of hair spray, body spray, nail polish remover, rubbing alcohol, and about 100 different types of perfume. The brunette vampire extracted two bottles of hair spray, and a lighter from the closet, holding them together to create a bluish flame about the size of a basketball. With a flourish, she tossed the heat-charged items into the cabinet, watching mesmerized as, one by one, the wooden shelves began to burn . . .

_6:45 p.m. – Merlotte's Bar and Grill_

"Team FOUR! GO!" Damon sat on top of the bar at Merlotte's his feet dangling over the edge, as Jason Stackhouse, Hoyt Fortenberry, and Terry Bellefleur raced forward with stakes in hand. In front of them was a cardboard cutout of Michael J. Fox from the 1985 film _Teen Wolf_. (The Bon Temps video store had always been a bit dated in its film selection.) As Damon shouted instructions over the cheering, only slightly inebriated, crowd, Jason tackled "Michael J. Fox," while Hoyt slashed his throat, and Terry ripped off his legs.

When they were finished, Jason held up the actor's severed wolf head with extreme pride, bowing to his adoring admirers. A panting Hoyt slapped Jason on the back, and offered Terry a triumphant fist bump.

"Now, I like a good piece of man meat, as much as the next person, but this is the strangest sh*t I have ever seen. And I've seen some strange sh*t in my day!" Lafayette Reynolds exclaimed, as he and Tara Thornton watched the scene in amazement.

"And we thought OUR vampires were effed up! This guy is INSANE," Tara replied, shaking her head.

"I'd still sleep with him though. It's always the lunatics that are the wildest beneath the sheets," Lafayette added with a wink.

"Don't I know it," responded Tara emphatically, trying in vain to vanish images of the psychotic, but decidedly erotic, vampire Franklin Mott from her brain.

Having not seen his bar this riled up, since the Maenad possession, a frustrated Sam Merlotte emerged from his office, and tapped Damon on the shoulder. "Anything that breaks goes on YOUR tab, buddy. Ditto, for hospital bills and personal injury lawsuits," he warned.

Damon sighed exasperatedly, and removed a wad of hundred dollar bills from his back pocket, "I've got things pretty much covered here. Why don't you head down to the local strip club, and go get yourself laid?" The Elder Salvatore brother instructed, laying a heaping dose of compulsion on Sam, as he spoke.

Sam extended his hand and allowed Damon to place the money inside of it. He then slowly ambled out of the bar, a dazed (but happy) expression in his eyes. "Where are you going, Sam?" Jessica inquired, as she entered the bar.

"I'm going to the strip club to get myself laid," Sam replied in a monotone voice that sent Caroline Forbes into a fit of giggles.

Damon's eyes widened, as he saw Elena enter Merlotte's, clad in her red dress, oozing sexuality, and looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her look, in the entire time he had known her. The dark-haired vampire instinctively licked his lips, and adjusted the waistband of his jeans. So entranced was Damon by Elena's stunning appearance, that he barely noticed Caroline, Tyler, Jeremy, Alaric and Bonnie entering the bar after her.

"You aren't the only one who can build an _army_, Damon Salvatore," Elena shouted over the noise of the crowd, causing the entire bar to turn and look at her.

Jason tossed Michael J. Fox on the floor haphazardly, and rushed toward Elena. "Hey . . . uh . . . Damon, I think I'm going to join HER army instead, if you don't mind. No hard feelings, of course," he called over his shoulder, before rushing to kiss Elena on her hand. "Jason Stackhouse, at your service."

Elena smiled. "We've met," she said, not unkindly.

Jason nodded. "I know . . . but not in the way I WANTED us to," he explained, giving Elena a sly sideways smile.

Damon hopped off the bar, and sauntered toward Elena. "I see you found my credit card," he said with a smile, deftly lifting the rectangular piece of plastic from where it was tucked carefully into her bra. (Unfortunately, Elena had lacked the foresight to buy a purse to go with the red dress, thereby forcing her to improvise.)

Elena shivered, as Damon's long thin fingers caressed the bodice of her silk, cream-colored bra, and rested for a few tantalizingly brief moments on the sensitive skin hiding underneath. When Elena opened her mouth to speak, she was surprised to find herself suddenly short of breath. She could sense the heat rising from her chest to the tips of her cheekbones, causing her to blush furiously, and begin to seriously reconsider the color of her dress. "Yes, I found your . . . _wait a minute_ . . . you KNEW you had left it there?" Elena inquired incredulously.

"Of course, I did, Elena. How could I possibly build an army to defeat Klaus, without including all the members of my favorite Scooby Gang?" He replied glibly, offering a wave to the recently-arrived Mystic Falls crew, who was currently regarding him with expressions of amusement (Alaric and Jeremy), confusion (Caroline), annoyance (Bonnie), and distrust (Tyler), respectively. "I just didn't have the time to arrange for their trips myself, with all the training I had to do."

Elena was _furious_ with Damon for manipulating her that way . . . for making her feel as though SHE had come up with the idea to invite her friends to meet them in Bon Temps, when, in fact HE had been pulling her puppet strings, all along. But, more than that, Elena was furious with _herself _for being so easily duped. She would have thought, that by now, she'd be used to Damon and his mind games. And yet, there was just something about Damon Salvatore that made Elena's brain cloudy, and her actions impulsive. She just wished that she knew what exactly it was, so that she could put an end to it, once and for all.

Damon regarded Elena out of the corner of his eye, noticing the intense fury, intermingled with lust, with which she was glaring at him. It gave him an excellent idea. "You are angry at me, aren't you, Elena? That's good. I want you to use it in this next exercise," he whispered in her ear.

"Ladies and gentleman, Elena and I would like to show you something," he announced to the watching crowd, as he motioned for the slim brunette to follow him toward the bar.

As Elena slowly walked behind Damon, she gave a pointed look at Bonnie, who smiled back at her knowingly. Elena had one last chance to exact revenge on Damon for what he had done to her. And she wasn't about to let _this_ opportunity go to waste. Once they were in front of the bar, Damon stepped up on top of it, offering his hand to Elena, so that she could follow suit. Elena rejected his hand, stubbornly, pulling herself up on the wooden ledge of her own accord.

Damon then removed a stake from his jeans pocket, and placed it in her hands. "I want you to stake me, Elena," he said, his typically playful cobalt blue eyes suddenly regarding Elena with a look of extreme seriousness.

Elena's eyes widened with concern. Sure, she was angry at Damon . . . furious even . . . but she certainly didn't want to _kill_ him. Damon noticed the trepidation in Elena's eyes, and gave her a triumphant smile. "You won't hurt me, I _promise_," he insisted.

"What makes you so sure?" Elena replied darkly, annoyed by Damon's obvious implication that she wasn't strong enough or quick enough to inflict any sort of damage on him.

Elena gritted her teeth, and thrust the stake at Damon's stomach, with her right hand, hoping to catch the cocky vampire by surprise. Unfortunately, for Elena, however, her human reflexes were no match for Damon's vampire ones. Within seconds, Damon had ripped the stake from Elena's tightly clenched fist.

Then, in one lightning fast move, he clasped both of her arms tightly behind her back with one hand. He then wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back up against his firm pelvis, with the other. The sensation of having their bodies pressed against one another in this extremely sexually suggestive way, hip-to-hip, waist-to-waist, flesh-to-flesh, was having a more powerful affect on both Damon and Elena, than either was willing to admit.

Elena felt her heart beat quicken, as a single bead of sweat, pearled on the base of her neck, and dropped into the delicate fold of her cleavage. She then made the mistake of looking upward into Damon's face. The desire in his eyes matched the raw sexual frustration that she knew was emanating in waves from her own. Suddenly, Elena was overtaken by an overwhelming desire to throw Damon against the back wall of the bar, press her chest up against his, and kiss him passionately, until both of their mouths were burned raw.

When Damon spoke again, his voice was husky, breathless, and faraway sounding, as though the overwhelming sensations overtaking his body were making it difficult for him to focus on the task at hand. "And that, my friends, is the best way to relieve an attacker of his weapon," managed Damon. "What's more, with the attacker's body positioned this way, it gives you full range of motion to further incapacitate, and dispose of the body, in any way, you see fit." Damon then began to move the flat edge of the stake in a lazy, zigzag trajectory, just barely tracing the delicate folds of Elena's dress with the pointed object, so as not to rip the fabric.

The feel of the wood pressing against Elena's body, in conjunction with the pressure of Damon's hands on her skin made Elena tremble all over. And she couldn't resist letting out a small moan of pleasure as Damon's hands accidentally crept up ever so slightly up her dress.

"Whew, I'm going to need a shower after watching this," muttered Jess under her breath.

"I know, right?" replied Caroline, as she guiltily took a peek in Tyler's direction. (He looked just as turned on as _she_ felt.)

Elena somehow managed to locate Bonnie's face in the crowd. Frantically, she tried, once again to communicate with the witch, using only her eyes. _Don't do it, Bonnie. _She thought to herself, hoping her friend would received the message in time. _Not now. Not like THIS. I've changed my mind._

But it was too late. Bonnie's eyes were already closed, and her lips were moving rapidly to complete the spell. This was going to happen, whether Elena wanted it to or not. Since Elena's back was to Damon, she couldn't tell, for certain, when the spell had taken affect. But then, the crowd erupted in laughter, and she knew, for certain, that it had.

In a flash, Damon's clothing disappeared into thin air, so that the only bits of him that were covered were the ones digging ever insistently into Elena's back. Elena could feel Damon's body stiffen, as he instinctively clutched her closer to him. "Match point, Elena," he whispered in her ear, his voice ragged with arousal and humiliation, but not nearly as angry, as she expected him to be. "I guess this makes us even."

Fortunately, for Damon, the front door of Merlotte's flung open with such extreme force and intensity, that it caused the entire crowd to turn toward _it,_ and away from the naked vampire. In seconds, a group of extremely old, powerful, and ferocious looking, vampires lined the back of the bar. The tension in the room ratcheted up considerably, as vampires, humans, and were-creatures alike, reached for their respective weapons, _just in case._

Once the elder vampires had congregated, a considerably taller, and blonder, vampire emerged from the fray. "Well, hello humans, and assorted supernatural types," he began in a calm, almost conversational voice, that belied the impact of what he was saying. "I wasn't aware that there would be a party here today. I suspect my invitation was lost in the mail. I see some unfamiliar faces here. So, for those of you who I haven't had the pleasure of meeting personally, my name is Eric Northman."


	12. Ch 12 The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**Author's Note: This chapter was inspired by Black Mustang's "Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea," which was featured in the TVD episode "Bloodlines." If you recall, THIS was the episode that featured Damon's and Elena's memorable road trip to Georgia . . . the "vacation" during which their relationship arguably took its tentative first steps from the innocent bonds of friendship, to something decidedly more **_**devilish . . .**_

**I apologize about the chapter being a bit short, at least by this story's standards. However, I am still working through some roadblocks with its plot. Special thanks to Serendipity for being my brilliant fanfiction idol, and constant cheerleader. Were it not for her encouragement, this story would have probably been tossed away in my ever growing "never finished" pile. And for those of you who haven't done so yet, definitely check out her story "Shadowdancing." It will surely make you swoon! **

6:30 p.m. – _Random Forest Area_

After "King Klaus' Mansion" caught fire, Stefan and Katherine simply ran . . . their bodies blackened by ash . . . their lungs filled with smoke. They ran fast, and far, and without any particular destination in mind. They ran from their enemies, who they knew would overtake them, in only a matter of time. They ran from their mistakes, their disappointments, and their heartbreaks . . . from the lives they had singlehandedly ruined, be it through selfishness, hunger, or pure unadulterated lust. They ran until all that was left was the cold night sky . . . and the trees . . . and their tired hungry bodies, pulsing with adrenaline, and yearning to be touched.

Katherine saw it first . . . a river, cool and peaceful looking. It beckoned to her, with its crystalline blue waters, and its serene, hypnotically slow-moving, current. With a wink in Stefan's direction, the vampire vixen quickly stripped off her shirt, and dove into the water. Stefan stopped in his tracks, frustrated. "Katherine," he demanded. "This is no time for a swim. They'll be coming for us, any minute now. We have to keep moving."

But no sound came from the water. In fact, everything remained still . . . disturbingly _still_. A minute passed . . . then two. At three minutes, Stefan began to get worried. "KATHERINE!" He called again, more insistently this time. "OK. You got me . . . . haha . . . funny joke. It's time to come out, Katherine. Game over."

But Katherine didn't answer, and Stefan's pulse began to race. In seconds, he was stark naked and racing for the river. With a running start, he jumped in to the cool drink, shivering as the cold hit his body. Having always been a fairly solid swimmer, Stefan quickly and easily made his way to the spot where he had last seen Katherine. When he got there, he felt a strong force, wrapping around his legs, and pulling him underneath the water. He tried to struggle, but it was no use. He was going under . . .

It wasn't until he was completely immersed in the river that Stefan finally figured out what was keeping him down. The younger Salvatore Brother growled, as he felt Katherine's warm mouth press insistently against his own, forcing it open with her deliciously sweet tongue. Her legs then wrapped themselves tightly around Stefan's waist, as her naked body thrust itself fervently into his own, in a forceful, yet beautifully fluid, series of movements.

Stefan sighed contentedly, as he ran his hands across Katherine's smooth wet skin . . . her long neck . . . her limber graceful back . . . and her tiny waist . . . finally allowing his fingers to curl tightly around the delectable softness of her buttocks. She moaned in his ear, bringing him closer and closer to the brink. Both of their mouths, and noses were filled with water, of course, but neither of them cared. They were too focused on giving themselves, and each other, pleasure. The one they called The Ripper then threw his head back and shuddered, as the blissful sensations overtook him . . .

Never before, had Stefan Salvatore felt so _alive_ . . . even though he _wasn't._

7:12 p.m. – _Merlotte's Bar and Grill_

With a single nod from Eric Northman, the elder vampires began to fan out, and survey the crowd. Each time they came upon someone without any supernatural strength or powers, the vampires promptly compelled them to leave the premises, and forget everything that had taken place within the past twenty-four hours. Damon was beyond furious. Elena could feel his anger vibrating through her like an electric current. The sensation was not entirely unpleasant.

"Don't do anything stupid, Damon," whispered Elena through gritted teeth. "We have no idea how powerful this guy is, or what he's capable of."

Damon clenched his fists, subconsciously preparing for battle. "He's singlehandedly disposed of half my army, Elena. What the hell do I care what he's _capable of_? I want to kick his ass! And besides, when have I ever done anything stupid?"

Elena smirked, and shook her head. "I have two words for you, Damon: moonstone . . . soap dish."

Damon grumbled, knowing precisely the incident to which she was referring, and grudgingly recognizing that her assessment of it was precisely right. "Dammit! I'm so much better at decapitating blonde pretty boy vampires, when I'm wearing pants," he seethed.

Within moments, all non-witch humans had exited the premises. Eric signaled to his associates, and they all began to silently file out of Merlotte's, as a single unit. _Now, this was a guy who knew how to train an army!_

"Oh, you're not so tough, now, without your little minions to help you out, are you, Eric Northman? Come to papa!" Damon snarled, beginning to move out from under Elena's protective cover.

Elena knew Damon was starting to vamp out. She could feel his body grow cold, and his limbs stiffen. She had to do something to keep him calm. Carefully, she grabbed hold of both his wrists, and began to massage his arms behind her back. She can feel the skin beneath her fingers growing soft and warm, and she knew what she was doing was working. Damon instinctively let his arms drop limply to their sides, as he exhaled deeply. Elena continued to do her magic, paying special attention to the portions of his muscles that were still stiffened and tense.

But then Damon's breathing started to quicken, and a low growl erupted from deep within his stomach. He moaned softly, as if he was in pain. Elena assumed she had hit a particularly tense spot on one of his arms. So, she began to apply all her attention to it, kneading it vigorously with both of her hands. But doing that only seemed to make the muscles tighter and more rigid.

"Uhhh . . . Elena?" Damon rasped, his voice ragged, and husky.

"Yeah," Elena whispered back.

"That's not _my arm_."

Elena jumped away from Damon so fast that she practically left skid marks on the floor. "Well, well, don't stop on my account. I certainly enjoy a good show," remarked Eric icily, as he stood in front of the pair.

Elena blushed furiously, while Damon tried to cover himself up as best he could with his hands, which, under the circumstances, was much easier said than done. "It wasn't . . . we _weren't _. . . I just . . ." Elena stammered awkwardly, not quite able to find a suitable explanation as to why her boyfriend's brother was naked in the middle of a public place, and she was standing in front of him, massaging his . . . _other arm_.

Eric smiled, and patted Elena on the back. "No explanation necessary. Just because I'm _old_, doesn't mean I no longer know how to have a good time."

Eric then noticed the vervain necklace around Elena's neck, and ran his fingers delicately across its chain, knowing immediately that he wasn't going to be able to compel the young woman to leave, as he had with the rest of the humans. The Viking Vampire's touch made Elena shiver. "I must say, she's quite a beautiful human specimen. Is she yours?" Eric asked Damon, motioning toward Elena.

Now it was Elena's turn to be furious. "I am _nobody's_. And I'd really appreciate your refraining from talking about me, as if I'm not standing _right in front of you_," she hissed.

Damon chuckled. Clearly, this guy had NO CLUE who he was dealing with . . .

"Ha . . . you remind me of somebody," Eric noted with amusement, eyeing the Petrova Doppelganger with amusement. "But if you are not HIS, you can't stay here. And if you won't leave of your own accord, I will be forced to physically carry out of the premises."

"You heard the lady, she's not mine," Damon added, matter-of-factly. "But if you so much as lay another finger on her, I will personally see to it that you walk with a limp for the rest of eternity."

"Fair enough," replied Eric.

"Now, if you've finished harassing my girlf . . . _Elena_ . . . I'd really like to skip to the part where you explain to my why the HECK you just trashed my ARMY."

"Come," Eric commanded. "We'll talk in the shapeshifter's office. I suspect he won't be returning to use it anytime soon."

Damon smirked, recalling his earlier compulsion of the owner of the bar. "That depends on how long it takes him to get laid," he replied gleefully.

Then his expression turned serious. "Why should I trust you? You've done nothing so far, but threaten me, and foil my plans," he remarked, his eyes narrowed.

Eric nodded in agreement. "I'm the Sheriff of Area 5," he explained, as if that mere remark would make all the difference.

Damon crinkled his brow. "You're a _vampire police officer_? And THAT'S supposed to make me listen to you? PLEASE! I eat cops like you for lunch . . . _literally_."

Eric sighed. "I don't expect a . . . _savage, _like you, to understand the complexities of vampire politics. But I assure you, I am a VERY IMPORTANT person in this town . . . and in this _state_. I am also very well acquainted with the man you are trying to kill. Klaus and I go way back . . . WAY, WAY back, in fact . . . nearly 1,000 years."

"So, you and Klaus were blood buddies, back in the day. What the hell difference does that make to me?" Damon replied stubbornly.

Eric rolled his eyes at the younger vampire's petulance, but forced himself to continue. "Despite our long acquaintance, Klaus has recently betrayed my trust. And, in doing so, he has put the lives of the good people of this state in serious jeopardy. So, like you, it has become in my best interest to kill my former friend. The difference, of course, is, _unlike you_, I actually know how to _do it_."

Damon nodded, stroking his chin with his fingers, in contemplation. "Well, now you've got my attention, Blondie. Let's go somewhere private to talk."

I'm coming with you," demanded Elena.

Damon groaned. "Elena, COME ON! You don't need to concern yourself with all this. Just go hang out with Bonnie and Caroline. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Elena put her hands on her hips. "Perhaps, you didn't hear me correctly. I'm coming with you, or Bonnie will see to it, that your lack of _clothing_ is the least of your problems."

Damon sighed, moving his arms with an exaggerated flourish toward the door to Sam's office. "After you, _my darling_," he said sarcastically.

Elena grinned, knowing she had won the battle. "How chivalrous of you, Sweet Cheeks," she replied, slapping Damon HARD on the ass, before she headed into the office. "By the way," she added, haphazardly, with a glance in the direction of the Sheriff of Area Five, "You should really consider getting him another pair of pants."

Eric laughed uproariously, noting just how much the young vampire and human couple, reminded him of himself and Sookie. "I _like her. She's got spunk_," Eric admitted to Damon. "Do yourself a favor, and don't let THAT ONE go."

Damon smiled ruefully. "If only it was that easy," he replied, as he followed Eric into Sam Merlotte's office, and shut the door behind him.


	13. Chapter 13 I Need to Know

**Author's Note: So, for weeks, now, I've been struggling with a seriously bad case of writer's block regarding this story. No, matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't make the characters tell me what was supposed to happen next. Then, today, an idea popped into my head, and I just started writing . . . and I couldn't stop! That's why this chapter is so darn long! I figured if I didn't get it all down now, all these ideas would leave my head tonight, and never come back. . . **

**The chapter itself is inspired by the song "Need to Know" by Kris Allen. The song was featured in the Season 2 episode entitled "Kill or Be Killed." I hope you enjoy it . . . well, the chapter, I mean. But the song is pretty good too. ;)**

_7: 45 p.m. - Sam Merlotte's Office_

Eric Northman peered at the younger vampire and his human companion from across the divide of Sam Merlotte's desk. They both looked solemn, and determined. He hoped that trusting them would not turn out to be an error in judgment.

Yet, somehow, despite his misgivings, he was not worried. Should Damon or Elena be stupid enough to betray him, _they_ would be the ones who would suffer for it . . . not _him_. One simply didn't survive on Earth as a vampire for 1,000 years (as Eric _had_) without learning a thing or two about the sweet and satisfying taste of revenge. In fact, the Sheriff of Area Five had become somewhat of an expert at meting out poetic justice to those who deserved it most . . .

As far as Damon and Elena were concerned, this conversation was over. Eric's strategy to defeat Klaus and his hybrid army had already been revealed to them. Each of the three individuals in the room, knew exactly what was expected of him or her, in order to carry out this plan. But the Viking Vampire still had one more, very important, matter to discuss. And he needed to discuss it with Damon, _alone_ . . .

"So, is everyone clear, on what they have to do?" Eric inquired, looking almost bored, as he leaned backward in his chair, and rested his uncommonly large feet on Sam's desk.

"_Crystal_," replied Damon, as he and Elena rose from their chairs in unison . . . an idiosyncrasy of the couple that didn't go unnoticed by the Sheriff of Area Five.

"Thank you . . . for _everything_" Elena said politely, extending her hand for Eric to shake.

Eric smiled seductively, a bit of fang peeking out from the corner of his mouth. "Oh, trust me, Miss Gilbert, the pleasure was all mine," he replied, his voice sounding smooth and sultry, like silk,

Eric took Elena's hand, as proffered. However, rather than shaking it, he kissed it slowly and purposefully, relishing the feel of her skin on his lips, and the spicy scent of her blood in his nostrils. While doing this, Eric made sure to hold Elena's gaze, causing a deep pink blush to rise from her neck to her cheeks. After a few moments of this, she awkwardly pulled her hand away, and shoved it behind her back.

Eric's brazen gesture didn't go unnoticed by Damon, who made a point of firmly resting his hand on the small of Elena's back, as he guided her out the door. Eric laughed upon seeing this. _For someone who refuses to claim his human, he sure acts mighty possessive of her,_ Eric thought to himself. Elena too seemed secretly pleased by the undoubtedly jealous response Damon had to the older vampire's flirtation. A small smile curled the corner of her lips. But the minute she saw Eric looking at her, it vanished.

Now was the moment. Eric had to act fast. The second Elena had crossed the threshold - and was standing outside of the office - the former Viking used his vampire speed to slam the door closed behind her, and lock it, leaving him alone in the office with Damon. Damon eyed the recently locked door, in shock. Interestingly enough, his first instinct was to worry for _Elena's _safety, rather than his own.

Damon's eyes immediately glowed red, and the veins on his forehead became visible. "If I leave this office, and find out that _one hair_ on her head is out of place, I swear, I will . . ."

Upon hearing this threat, Eric laughed uproariously, which only served to make Damon madder. "She's fine, Damon. She's talking with her friends right now. I'm sure I'm not the only one who can hear them."

Damon let his anger boil over enough to train his ears on the door. Eric was right. Elena was chatting intensely with Bonnie and Caroline about something. In fact, his own name was being brought up quite a bit, during the conversation. Elena was safe. HE was the one in danger.

Acting fast, Damon boldly charged the older vampire. But Eric Northman was quicker and stronger, pinning the Elder Salvatore brother to the floor, as if tackling century-old bloodsuckers was the sort of thing he did for fun, every day (which, it probably _was_).

"I suggest you calm down, Young One," Eric said through gritted teeth. "I have no reason to hurt, you . . . though, surely, by now, you've figured out that I easily _can_. It's just that I happen to have a very important matter to discuss with you, _in private_. And this was the easiest way I could think of to separate the two of you."

Once Eric was certain that Damon was not going to fight him anymore, he released his grip on the younger vampire. The Sheriff of Area Five then rose to his feet, extending his hand to Damon, who was still lying on the ground. Tentatively, Damon accepted the blonde vampire's hand.

"What _matter_ could _possibly_ be so private that Elena can't be in here to hear it?" Damon asked breathlessly, with just a hint of humiliation and frustration in his voice.

Eric's reply sent a chill up Damon's spine: "It involves your brother . . . Stefan Salvatore."

_7:50 p.m. - Merlotte's Bar and Grill_

About two seconds after Elena found herself, alone, on the wrong side of the closed door to Sam Merlotte's office, she felt four small hands insistently dragging her away. "What the hell?" Elena exclaimed in confusion, banging futilely on the closed door with her fist. "Guys, get off me! I think Damon might be in trouble in there."

"I'm sure Damon can take care of himself, Elena," said Bonnie, with obvious annoyance.

"And, besides, we REALLY need to talk," added Caroline, her eyes wide with intensity and excitement.

Eventually, Bonnie and Caroline managed to wrench an unwilling Elena far enough away from the office door to regain her undivided attention.

Never one to mince words, Bonnie cut right to the chase. "We think you are cheating on Stefan with Damon," she said flatly.

"BONNIE!" Caroline exclaimed, lightly poking her friend in the ribs with her elbow, before addressing Elena again. "It's not like that exactly . . . it's just that . . . well . . . since we've arrived here, we noticed that you two have seemed kind of . . ."

Caroline struggled to put a kinder spin on Bonnie's bold statement. Unfortunately, she found herself in the exceedingly rare (at least, _for her_) situation of being at a complete loss for words. "We think you are cheating on Stefan with Damon," she muttered, echoing her less sensitive friend's harsh words, with a reluctant sigh.

Elena's first instinct was to be furious with her friends, for having the nerve to accuse her of_ this_ - especially, after all she and Damon had put themselves through, on Stefan's behalf, in the past 48 hours . . . the days of school missed, the money spent, the hours of sleep lost. "Excuse me?" She asked pointedly, her brow furrowed in anger, as she tensely wrapped her arms across her chest.

Bonnie stepped toward Elena, her voice softer this time, more tentative. "Listen, we saw how you two were acting together on top of that bar. The way you fought with one another. . . the way you_ touched_ one another . . . Elena . . . we saw what you did to Damon, after I made his clothing disappear."

Elena face burned with embarrassment. She had desperately hoped that no one had noticed _that_. "That was an _accident_, Bonnie," she seethed. "An ACCIDENT! How could you two even think that about me . . . that I would DO that to Stefan? Do you have any idea what I've been through these past few days? Do you even care? I thought you two were supposed to be my best friends?"

Caroline took a step back, her hands raised in a placatory gesture. "Sweetie, there's no need to get defensive. We aren't judging you . . . well . . . _Bonnie_ might be judging you a little bit . . . but . . . I'm not. I mean, I know, first hand, how . . . _persuasive_ . . . Damon can be when he wants something. And he's ALWAYS wanted _you_! We're only bringing this up, because we're your friends, and we're worried about you."

Elena sighed and shook her head. It was always hard to stay mad at Caroline, when she played the doe-eyed innocent, Barbie girl, card with her. Never mind the fact that Caroline was a vampire, who could probably rip Elena in half with her teeth, in about two minutes flat, if she was so inclined!

"Well, I appreciate your concern, guys. But I assure you that there is nothing scandalous is going on between Damon and me. So, I suggest you stop worrying about me, and start focusing on your _own_ relationships . . . which, last I checked, could both use some work," she concluded pointedly.

"A-ha!" Caroline said triumphantly. "So, you admit that you and Damon are in a RELATIONSHIP! I knew it the minute I saw the way you looked at him! The eyes never lie."

"NO, Caroline, we aren't in a relationship! Damon and I are just . . ." Elena was about to say "friends," when a sharp pang of guilt suddenly stabbed her in the gut, taking her completely by surprise.

Suddenly, Elena was assaulted with blurry images of herself kissing Damon . . . _undressing _Damon . . . _straddling_ Damon . . . and _grinding_ against Damon's rock hard body with her own. Yes, she was drunk, at the time. And yes, she was upset about Stefan. But was that an _excuse_? And if Damon hadn't stopped her from doing so, wouldn't she have continued right on doing what she was doing? Wouldn't she have had _sex_ with Damon, last night? And if THAT's not cheating than what is?

And yet, the physical ramifications of Elena's actions were the least of her problems . . . What about the _emotional_ ones? Even she had to admit that, recently, her feelings for Damon had changed. But the question that she wasn't yet willing to face was: _How much?_

Elena shook her head vigorously, finding that she could no longer look her friends in the eye. "I love Stefan. It will always be Stefan," she said, repeating her mantra out loud, in hopes that she could still convince herself of its truth. "I love him . . . even if he doesn't love me anymore."

"What?" Caroline exclaimed, rushing to throw her arm around her friend's shoulder. "That's ridiculous, Elena. You _know_ that Stefan loves you. He loves you more than anything in this world."

"Not more than _blood_," Elena muttered bitterly, surprised by how angry she suddenly felt at her boyfriend for how he treated her the night before at Fangtasia. Given how badly Stefan had behaved, it was just as much HIS fault what happened between her and Damon, last night, as it was hers. _Wasn't it?_

"Elena, did something happen between you and Stefan that you haven't told us?" Bonnie inquired, as she forced her friend's eyes to meet with her own.

Elena nodded sadly. "I don't know why I didn't tell you guys, before I made you come out here. I just . . ."

"Elena, you can tell us _anything_. You know that! You'll feel better when you do," Caroline insisted.

Elena took a deep breath, and then began to speak. "I saw Stefan last night at a bar around here. I swear, he was like a different person . . . It was worse than it was at the Miss Mystic Falls pageant. He was just so dark, and cold, and _angry_. He told me he wanted nothing to do with me. And then . . . he . . . left with another woman."

Elena had decided to leave out the part about Stefan's potentially murdering _that woman_, and someone else, that night, because she still wasn't sure whether it was true. In fact, she wanted with all her heart to believe that it wasn't. After all that the two of them had been through together, Elena felt that she at least owed it to Stefan to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"That must have been awful, Elena. I'm so sorry," Caroline cooed, hugging her friend tighter to her chest.

"Listen . . . I know Stefan hasn't been himself lately, and I know that you are upset. But you can't let Damon take advantage of your situation, and manipulate your emotions. It's not like he hasn't done it to you before," piped in Bonnie.

"Nobody is MANIPULATING me, Bonnie . . . least of all Damon! Why do you always insist on seeing the worst in everyone?" Elena sputtered, surprised at how defensive she sounded._ Why was she acting this way? Why did she feel so obligated to stick up for Damon, against her friends' accusations? Was it because he protected her virtue, the night before? Or was it something more complex than that? _Elena wasn't so sure, anymore . . .

Noting her friends' wide-eyed stares, Elena realized she was going to have to do some damage control. "I'm sorry, Bonnie. I didn't mean that. It's just that . . . these past few days, have been really difficult for me. And Damon . . . well he . . ."

"What about _Damon_?" inquired a familiar voice, from behind her.

"Oh . . . Damon . . . we didn't see you there," Elena responded, twirling in the direction of the voice. _She should have known he would be right there listening in on this conversation._

"We need to talk . . . _in private_." He said sternly.

Damon Salvatore had just finished his meeting with Eric Northman. And judging by the troubled expression on his face, things most certainly did not go well . . .

_8:00 p.m. – Random Forest Area_

Stefan and Katherine were lying naked together, underneath a blanket of stars . . . their bodies still slick and wet, from their recent underwater adventures. Katherine nuzzled closer to Stefan, resting her head contentedly in the space between his chin and his chest, as she lazily traced her fingers across the taut muscles of his stomach. When Stefan began to run his fingers through her long dark hair, she sighed deeply, and closed her eyes, unable to remember a time when she felt this happy . . . which was odd, considering an army of monsters was currently out to KILL THEM . . .

"Wouldn't it be great if we could stay like this forever?" Katherine whispered, raising her hand to Stefan's cheek, and stroking it softly, "Lying in the sun during the day, and screwing in the river, at night? We could live on each others' blood . . . and snack on unsuspecting sunbathers . . . There would be no obligations, or responsibilities . . . no annoying girlfriends, brothers, or doppelgangers to judge us . . . or make us battle against super villains, on a regular basis. It would be pure _perfection_."

Stefan laughed, and smiled ruefully. "You know I would kill to live that way with you. Unfortunately, that isn't in the cards for us."

Katherine rolled her eyes, and poked Stefan in the ribs. "Oh, you're no fun! So, tell me, Oh Wise One, what _is_ in the cards for us?"

Stefan sat up on one elbow, a solemn expression on his face, "You know what I'm going to say."

"Please don't tell me you plan on going back to _them_, not after everything that's happened between us," Katherine groaned.

"I have to warn them about Klaus . . . I owe them that much. And if they plan to fight him, I plan to fight right alongside of them."

Katherine folded her arms across her chest, and stuck out her lower lip in a pout. "Riiight . . . because _that's _what this is all about . . . _Klaus_. And this wouldn't have ANYTHING to do with your wanting to get back together with that little, dull as dishwater, human girlfriend of yours, now, would it?"

Stefan turned abruptly, and grabbed Katherine's face in both of his hands, so that it was just inches away from his own. "No, Katherine. That is NOT why we are going back. And you know it. How can you possibly doubt how I feel about you?"

"I have 165 years of practice . . ." Katherine replied pointedly, avoiding Stefan's eyes.

"Look, I handled things badly with Elena. I'll be the first to admit that. I thought I loved her. I really did. But then the Sacrifice came and went, and Damon was dying. So, I turned to the blood, because I thought that it was the only way out."

"And I SAVED my brother's life by doing that, Katherine. We _both_ did. And, if I had to, I'd do it again, in a heartbeat."

"But I didn't have to stay with Klaus all this time. No one was keeping me with him. And no one was forcing me to become the monster I became when I was with him. I realize that now. And I think a part of me stayed, because there was something I was missing in Mystic Falls. I had a hunger I couldn't satisfy. I used to think it was for blood. But now I realize . . . that hunger was for _you_."

Katherine rose abruptly and stood, with her back facing Stefan. "Katherine?" Stefan called out, racing to stand in front of her once again. "Katherine, are you actually _crying_?"

"NO!" Katherine insisted, stubbornly wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Yes . . . yes you are!" Stefan exclaimed amusedly, placing his hands on both her shoulders. "Katherine Petrova . . . _a sappy romantic_! Who would have thought?"

"Shut up, Stefan," Katherine whispered, pulling his body close to hers, and kissing him so deeply and passionately, that the younger Salvatore brother nearly forgot his own name.

"Come on, Dopey," she exclaimed, smirking at the dazed expression on his face. "Let's go save the world from were-vampires!"

_8: 07 p.m. - Merlotte's Bar and Grill_

Damon grabbed Elena's hand, and walked briskly with her to the other side of the room. Elena looked back at Bonnie and Caroline. Of course, they were watching her with knowing, and exceedingly judgmental, looks in their eyes. Thinking fast, Elena put her hand on Damon's chest and pushed him forcefully into the kitchen behind the bar. Damon's eyes widened with surprise, wondering for a second whether Elena was planning on kissing him, like she had the night before . . . well, _hoping_, was more like it.

But when the pair reached the privacy of the bar kitchen, Elena was back to being all business, unfortunately. "Now, _talk_," she said determinedly.

Elena noticed that Damon was unusually skittish around her, for some reason. He kept running his fingers through his hair, and couldn't seem to stand still, for more than a few seconds. _What the heck is wrong with him?_ She couldn't help but wonder.

"Do I smell bad to you? I feel like these clothes are making me smell bad?" Damon asked, tugging uncomfortably at the grey _Merlotte's _t-shirt he was wearing.

Elena smirked, and rolled her eyes, recalling how, Eric Northman had begun unapologetically rummaging through the owner of the bar's personal belongings, as soon as they had entered his office, a few minutes ago. Eventually, he came upon a t-shirt and pair of khakis. Eric then threw the items of clothing at Damon, insisting that the latter put them on, before resuming "business."

Damon - who, as it turned out, was surprisingly finicky about wearing someone else's clothing - balked at the idea. Of course, the fact that the original owner of the clothing in question, was shorter and stockier than Damon, in addition to being a shape-shifter of some sort, certainly didn't help matters.

"You smell like a _bar_, Damon . . . but that's only because we're IN a_ bar_. Now, please tell me you didn't interrupt my conversation with my friends . . . who came all the way out here to see me . . . just to talk about funky smells," Elena challenged, unable to hide the mirth in her voice.

Damon laughed. "Awww, my apologies, Elena! How rude of me to prevent you and your friends from gossiping about me?" Damon snarked, switching to an exaggeratedly high pitched voice, in order to mimic Bonnie and Caroline. "Ohhhh, that Damon Salvatore is SUCH A BAD BOY! I think he deserves a spanking!"

Upon hearing this remark, Elena punched Damon hard in the stomach, causing a resounding SLAP sound to reverberate in the air around him. Damon gasped, and lowered his eyes at Elena with feigned annoyance. "Oh, you're going to pay for that, Little Miss Gilbert," he said, grabbing her by the waist, as he began tickling her stomach and arms, with a vengeance.

"STOP IT! LET GO OF ME!" Elena squealed with laughter, as she struggled under the pleasurable pain of Damon's unrelenting fingers.

Eventually, she managed to grab hold of both of Damon's arms, and twist herself around in them, so that she was facing him. Holding his arms aloft, in her own, Elena looked up at Damon, as her body, crashed into his. When Elena caught the look of desire and passion in Damon's large piercingly blue eyes, her laughing stopped abruptly. Suddenly, she found herself unable to move, mesmerized as she was by the powerful sensation of Damon's body against her own, combined with the burning power of his seductive stare.

They stood there like that for a few moments, locked in one another's gaze, until, finally, Elena slowly extracted herself from Damon, to self-consciously tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "This isn't like you," she said, her voice so breathless that it was almost a whisper.

Damon smiled lasciviously, before replying, "I assure you, Elena, this is EXACTLY like me."

Elena shook her head. "You know that's not what I mean. What I _mean_, is that it isn't like you to avoid a difficult conversation, just to spare somebody's feelings. Now, obviously, Eric said something to you behind those closed doors that you think is going to upset me. And I suggest that you tell me what it is now, so that we can work it out. Contrary to popular belief, Damon, I'm not this fragile little girl, who's going to fall apart at the first sign of trouble. Whatever you have to say to me, I can take it."

Damon nodded sadly. He knew full well how strong Elena was. But how much more strife was a girl like that expected to endure, in such a short lifetime? He hated to be the one to add to her unhappiness. And yet, at the same time, he knew that, sooner or later, he was going to have to tell her what he knew.

"You know how Stefan . . . hurt those girls at Fangtasia, last night?" He began.

Elena sighed, unable to deny that fact any longer. "Yes," she replied, in as calm a voice as she could muster. "I know the cops are probably after him. But I'm sure he could handle them, through compulsion or . . . _other means_," she concluded with a shiver.

Damon shoved his hands in his pockets uncomfortably. This was going to be harder than he thought. "It's not the cops I'm worried about. You see, the vampires may be 'out' in Louisiana, but, lately, they've run into a little bit of a 'public relations problem.'" He continued, throwing air quotes around the phrase _public relations_. "Apparently, one of their kings butchered a newscaster on live television, causing a whole lot of fear and hatred of vampires to spread among the local human population."

"That's pretty understandable, under the circumstances," replied Elena. "But I still don't get how . . ."

"I'm getting there," interrupted Damon. "In response to this growing hatred, the heads of state in the vampire community here have adopted a 'no tolerance' policy, when it comes to public displays of vampirism. And Stefan, well . . ."

"He ate those girls in public," Elena finished Damon's sentence for him, as was becoming an increasingly common occurrence between the two of them, recently.

"Yes," agreed Damon. "He_ did_. So, these Big Important vampires, many of whom are three or four times Stefan's age, are out to get Stefan. And if they find him before we do . . ."

"Don't say it," argued Elena, with tears in her eyes.

"They're going to _kill him_, Elena."


End file.
